


Cinderella

by Kifujin Kitade (KifujinKitade)



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-27
Updated: 2014-02-27
Packaged: 2018-01-13 23:23:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1244314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KifujinKitade/pseuds/Kifujin%20Kitade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Squalo is Cinderella. Xanxus is the prince. More comments needed?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cinderella

Cinderella  
So I'll begin, my usual scowl plastering my features. I'm not the kind of man to cry out. I hardly cry. Well, I do not cry at all. So I thought before I saw that man, the one I used to follow for years, laying down, breath hitching, life slipping slowly from his eyes. That geezer was the man who, long long ago, picked me in the streets and gave me a place to stay, a place where I could say I belonged to. Hell as that could sound fluffy today, but this is true: if that man, the boss of the Bartali family, didn't rescue me that time – eyes dull and limbs numb from the cold; sure I would be five feet underground right now, certainly decomposing like fuck. I don't recall my real parents. Later, people would say I was so ill-treated when I was a child my subconscious locked itself any memory related to my childhood. That was adults' reasoning. When you're shivering in the cold and you haven't eaten a shit for days, you don't give a shitty fuck to all those sweet-talk.  
'Voi. Don't fucking leave me alone, damnit, Bartali.' I wanted to scream, but the words stay glued in my sobbing throat – yeah, I, at least, let myself to escape one or two sobs. I just couldn't. Shitty pride to be blamed of. But that was all me: as proud as Lucifer, arrogant, rude and loud like no hell – to sum up, one motherfucking screwed up man. I couldn't help it. Neither back then, nor now. So I only stayed there, clenching my fists until my knuckles became white from anemia. Oh I mean the knuckle of my right hand. years ago, when I was barely fourteen, I got the left one crushed under a truck, while a bunch of idiots from a rival family were trying to sneak out some confidential information. I didn't flinch. Not once. And then I lost my left hand, and the dominant one, in addition to that. I fucking lost my left hand for that dying asshole. And it fucking hurt.  
Well, that was everyday life, back then. Memories of my war-like-life discarded in my head, nicely sepia-colored to stick with stereotype. Bullets were heard everywhere. A smell of blood, metal and barrel powder was fluttering above the countless cadavers ling in the mud. Yet, numerous people were still up, fighting against each other. They were so dirty and hideous you couldn't have said who was with whom, but they kept punching, hurting, and killing each other, just like good human-beings. And in that shambles, there I was, running between my opponents, punching and shooting at them so as to kill the most numerous possible and to force my way in the crowd so as to kill the most numerous possible. I myself was injured; I could feel my own blood running from my shoulder to my arm. That sure hurt like a bitch. Nonetheless I kept progressing in my way to the head of the adverse family. It was a time issue before we would win that war. End of the flashback.  
The funeral ceremony went by like an old-fashioned song. I don't clearly recall all the events which took place that time. I can hardly remember the shaking shoulders of all of the asshole's followers, the crying wife kneeling in front of the coffin, who kept stroking quietly her nine-year old daughter's beautiful locks. And I was by her side, watching quietly the pitiful scene display in front of my feral eyes. Pitiful scene. Pitiful human beings. Pitiful myself, I mumbled bitterly.  
However all of that shitty misery had to be swept away, as we were welcoming few days later our new boss, the late leader's illegitimate son, Andrea Bartali. Don't ask me how did a bastard like him succeeded in becoming one of the most powerful mafias in Sicilia's head; I, myself, was taken aback. Just why on earth did they take an heir from nowhere, out of the blue? That was nonsense; but I didn't complain. The Council had chosen him and as common subordinate I didn't have my word to say.  
How was the new boss like? Andrea was a healthy young male, probably the same age as me, with long and curly blond hair, handsome I would say, dressed, in a black high class suit fitting perfectly his alert body; and clever. As I heard later, the late boss had taken care of his education, as if he already knew Andrea would later pick up his business. He was already aware of all of our dealings, enemies and allies, so our organization could immediately resume its business after the mourning. Andrea had also a personal charisma luring anyone to him. He had eloquence, reasoning and an affable face; so in one word, he was a born leader. The Bartali family could stay serene for the next years.  
Oh fuck that. I never got to like him. I never got to appreciate that mischievous grin plastered on his marvelous features. I never got to restrain a shiver of disgust when our hands suddenly made contact when I gave him my reports, or when guessing his sheer lustful gaze growing heavier on my back, following me from behind. Neither I got to restrain myself from snapping out when he intimately passed his hand and grabbed a fistful of my long silver mane (yes, please, you can make fun of me: I am a grown up man, and I am wandering all over the place with waist length bright silver hair).  
'Don't fucking play with me, scum' I fumed – or rather, yelled, as talking was to me as the same level as shouting for average people – so I roared, baring threateningly my sharp teeth, letting my sword ghosting one inch from his neck's skin.  
I forgot to say: I was in the middle of my daily sword training. Scientists miraculously succeeded in grafting a prosthesis hand on my butchered fist, and then stuck on a sword – my one and only passion, the day I lost my dominant hand, for the first time of my life I really wanted to cry for losing my sword. So right after the transplantation I began to train on a daily basis to accustom with my new hand. The ex-boss often told me I would rip myself of overworking. I only laughed and continue my training. That was a habit old of almost fifteen years.  
Now is different. Even back then it was different. That shitty Andrea get used watching all of my training session, how many hours I would stay locked up in my special training room (I asked for a separated room from the others for not being disturbed, now look at me), at my great displeasure. But I always kept waving the cutting edge of my sword in the air, much more in an artistic way than a murderous one, and simply ignored him. Until that day.  
'Vaffanculo. I am not some filthy bitch you can easily hook to your bed, feccia. So stop fucking annoying me before I fucking hack to pieces all of your limbs one by one and throw it to the dogs outside.'  
He giggled.  
'Is that the way you used to talk to my late father?' He came closer, pushing softly my sword with one finger. 'You are currently my right hand man, my dear Squalo, consequently, you are not supposed to threaten me like this'  
He made a point. That fucktard made of me his right hand man, as I was his father's. But in those days, I took pride in serving him, in serving his family and his ambitions, my ambitions. Yet, those people I once called my comrades fell one after the other, the ones facing our enemies' bullets, the others betraying us. Even the first boss' wife remarried and took her child and every memories of her late husband with her. I finally remained alone, I was left behind. Alone with my pride, alone with my sword and alone with that fucker of Andrea and his fucking hair fetish.  
'Che' I escaped from his grip, slapping his hand away. I allow you to have me, shithead. Never forget I would never have followed you for your goddamn eyes, but rightly because you're the old geezer's son. I you weren't, I would've killed you long time ago.'  
'But nol potevi. You're the loyal type, Superbi Squalo. ' He mused of my anger. 'You'll never betray your family – and betray me, ever, without going against your credo. I know you more than what you think, and enough to say you'll never have the guts to live my side.'  
'Are you nuts? My loyalty has nothing to do with you…'  
'I know. I don't expect that much. But you're the loyal type, dear Squalo. Your loyalty and faith to my father and all he had built his entire life, his organization, his family, all for what he sacrificed so much of himself, for what both of you sacrificed until now, your devotion, your trust, your fervor, all of this, Squalo, is the reason why you'll always stay by me; the reason you belong to me now.'  
'M'importa assai. This is just shit-talking. You don't own me, and you won't. As long as I live. But in one point, you're right: this family is what I dedicated my life to, so me alive I won't let you do as you please and jeopardize everything me and the ol'man had done…' I bellowed.  
'Dear, have you forgotten of who I am? I am your leader, your boss. If I feel like it, I can send all of you guys to a prompt death without you even noticing , my, don't look so angry, I didn't say I would. That would be too unproductive.' He joked. 'Squalo, you know I won't kill you. So a waste of your beauty. But you should seriously consider of your place within the Bartalis, don't forget all of these years you spent fighting day after day, night after night; all the blood, yours and enemies', poured, the lives taken on the battlefield – comrades or not; the sins, the oh-so-numerous sins you've committed on the name of my father. Do you think you can erase those facts? You can't, dear Squalo…' His face was two inches from mine. 'So…'  
He kissed me. A dirty, disgusting, infamous and shameful kiss. I didn't stop him, letting him invade and explore nonchalantly the moist cavern of my mouth, playing successively with my immobile tongue and my palate. His hands finally moved to cup at my asscheeks, drawing circles with his thumbs, pulling me even closer into the kiss. The fuck. Like I could stop that motherfucker. He was right from the very start. I didn't surrender to him, I surrendered to my obligations, my responsibilities, my shitty pride. How ironic: my so-proud ass being touched and groped by another man more or less without my authorization. In another case I would have chopped those fucking hands far apart their owner. But that was different. It wasn't weakness – I'll personally cut anyone who would assume that bullshit – that wasn't weakness. But Andrea was right about my loyalty, my trust, my faith in the ol'man, and my fidelity, not to Andrea, of course, but to the Bartalis, to the late boss. I didn't even know how many years I spent working for them, nor I knew anything out of them. The world wasn't and isn't kind to lost children.  
Even dead, the old geezer kept crushing an iron hand on my soul. I would stay here, with him, or at least with what we had built together. That was my pride. That was the reason I continue moving forward.  
I rebuffed Andrea violently as I was starting to feel really gross. 'Quit it already' I panted.  
'Oh-. So this is all I'm going to get today. So sad. Well, I'm looking forward for furthermore, dear Squalo' He purred in my ear. 'It's not you were going anywhere, nor could do anything to harm my life.' He vigorously grabbed my chin with one hand and glared voluptuously right into my silver eyes. 'Remember clearly, Superbi Squalo. You are permitted to breathe only because I decided to. You can scream and shout as much as you please, but only thanks to me, me and nobody else. At each step you make from now, never forget to bless my name, because you are mine, Squalo. All of you, all of your soul and body, your bright silver eyes, your marvelously silky hair, your loud voice, all of you. Never think of escaping from my grip, ever, or I'll make your miserable life a living hell. But, as I said before, I'd rather keeping you alive and with me, so please, behave as I told you and stay aware of your position. Mi raccomando, caro mio cagna Squalo.'  
He left the room, before I let a scream of rage, scattering the remainder of my broken pride which were still lingering in the air. That was the loneliest moment in my life, I thought while watching my whole world fall apart and all I could do was to stare blankly.  
   
Chapter 2  
Empty.  
Do you know how to feel empty? Back then I knew oh-so-well that feeling: anger, frustration, loneliness, sadness, the sensation you can't be helped – so you're coming down, coming down, coming down, the pace of your fall becoming faster when you get down enough; seeing all you believed in, all you beloved crushed into filth, a dark, stinking and immoral filth, hope and sanity both gone far far away, and so fast you didn't even have time to say farewell; you sleep, it's like you can't see anything but nightmare, you can't wake up, you can't escape. Feeling your body and soul soiled, violated again and again, again and again … so many times you don't ever remember when that infernal cycle began to suck you in, nor whether you had a normal life before this ('Huh, a normal life?' I chimed). Finally you don't know where your body ends and where Hell begins. – Then you think: I'm a grown up now, why should I annoy the world with so childish fears? They would only mock you – how stupid. How pitifully obnoxious. Even now.  
Oh I kept doing my work; humanity would come to an end before I thought deserting from my duties. I kept training, training and yelling as always. But in the inside I knew instinctively I was broken. Broken and empty, I don't know if that's even physically possible. And shit, I've always been, everyone has, so what's the big deal? I'm not a goddamn signorina, I wouldn't take offence for something like that, fuck.  
So I spent the next two years having that sucker as my boss. Two long and exhausting years of sexual harassment I can't believe now I could have bore. And meanwhile, the situation worsened. It fucking worsened! First months it was unnecessary grope and reluctant kisses only. But one day, it degenerated.  
He had summoned me in his office for something related to an important mission. Some shitty bastards were starting to fuck with us since the last boss' death. I'd have to teach those scums of the earth good manners. I'm digressing. I came in, slamming the door behind me. If it was for work, I could manage bearing that fucktard Andrea's face, and even on my good days show a minimum of respect to him. As Andrea's and also the late boss' right hand man I developed a very great sense of responsibility – yeah, I'm applying for a job, I'm writing goddamn curriculum vitae right now – which consist globally in being constantly on others' back, yelling at them to do their fucking work quickly, or at least correctly. No need to say I had neither friends nor allies, kind of, within the Bartali's, people hardly bridled themselves from throwing knives at me at breakfast. I smirked. Like I could care of all of those weaklings. They just do their work and there would be no bloodshed. I mean their blood of course; I wouldn't have survived until now if I weren't as worthless as them. I did all of this for that asshole, even now. So I came in the office, a wide and modern style room, white and bright with large windows giving a glimpse on our well-kept giardino, full of blue ortensia, giaggiolo and acanto (Andrea's idea. I didn't give a flying fuck).  
'Voooi. Quale vuoi?' I sneered. Accepting to work for that scum boss didn't mean I liked working for him. He gestured me to come closer. I obeyed. So he was up to that. Again, I thought while heading to the blond sitting in a luxurious leather armchair. I sat facing him, filling the void between Andrea and his wooden desk. Andrea slowly reached my waist and pulled my body so that I was straddling him. He started kissing me. It was lustful, a thick and wet tongue licked my swollen lips, chewing flushed flesh, nibbling at the lower lip some times before biting it sadistically. I gasped in pain.  
'Nngh! Voi…'  
He invaded my mouth with his appendage. His tongue played playfully with mine, battled for dominance, and was losing. Suddenly he ground a knee on my crotch.  
'Ah… You fucking…' A barely whispered between two breaths. Soon the grinding became more erratic. I felt hot and my pants grew tighter.  
'Oh, you love this, caro mio Squalo.' He mused while seeing me rocking my hips against his knee. His smirk only got wider. 'Look at you, panting desperately, cheeks cutely flushed, and on top of that you want, you beg for more. Now dare you say you're not mine, Superbi Squalo.' He massaged my ass. I was near. Fucking near, but I couldn't find release, my manhood already hard like hell trapped in my pants, and, I assumed, starting leaking – I didn't know, I didn't really give a fuck to anything around when I was doing that. 'But don't worry, my beautiful one, I'm going to give it all to you.' Saying this, he raised my waist high enough so I couldn't feel his knee anymore. Without further ado, he quickly undone my belt and yanked my pants and boxer down. I barely had time to hiss at the fresh air on my hot skin, a bitter contrast, and the sudden freeing, partially reliving my hard-one, when that fucker fucking inserted two fingers in my still unprepared hole.  
So that was a first.  
Before our sexual encounters – I can't even say it was fucking – only consisted in jerking off. He used to play with me like with a sex toy. The usual pattern? Andrea grinding against my hips or my ass until his majesty fully fulfilled his desires. I bore silently his hard cock pushing against me – you know, it's like when you see a schoolgirl getting harassed in the tube: she would scream, but she doesn't, impatiently waiting for her stop. She just stays stuck in the crowd, eyes shut or tied to her shoes; and the ol'fat ass is still fucking doing his mess; and the fucking crowd is still doing like nothing is happening. But let me correct myself. I ain't a shitty schoolgirl (hell, yeah, sometimes people mistake me for a woman and then try to do thing they would do with a woman – do you follow? Some people just need to know who they are fucking with). I was no weak woman. I wouldn't cry for something like that. It only felt disgusting. Yes, I was disgusted, but not only because of his mistreatments, but also because of my own reactions; and it had nothing to do with the fact I have been raised in a narrow-minded Christian country. Fuck that.  
Every time I got as hard as him, nearly acting sensually to his touches, panting and moaning as he was pumping wildly at my shaft, my body dancing against his until we both reached our peak. He then came hard, and I ask myself where on my body hadn't been covered with his fluid yet – hands, thighs, stomach, back, face and hair, one after the other went through the aftermaths of his orgasm, white liquid dripping on pale skin or paler locks. Usually he would stop at this point, would I come or not. He just let me slip down on the floor, writhing and choking like a goddamn puttana, he assumed I was, and smirked in pleasure while seeing me grabbing my twitching cock with both hands and beginning to masturbate myself like there was no tomorrow. Oh I hated myself so much back then (pride and shit buried deep in Hell – when I saw Andrea's nasty orbs eyeing me jerking off. Shit. If I could I would have killed myself right on the spot, but luckily – or rather unluckily – I couldn't.  
All that time. All that time I regretted that day.  
As I said he was absolutely going out of pattern. Even if that was screwed, I more or less accustomed myself to his habits. Bear or die. That's why the all thing quite disturbed me.  
I grabbed his hand. 'Ow… It fucking hurts… shithead…' I whined.  
He didn't listen, he wasn't giving a shit the pain plastered in my face – the pain I wish was as blatant as I feared. Andrea dryly pumped in and out of the reddened hole.  
'Voi… Andrea.' I fumed. 'Stop this… Aan… Already…'  
He said nothing; I could only be horrified looking at his sadistic face smirking devilishly at me, eyes darkened with lust and other hellish feelings. He quickened the pace. My whining got higher, beads of tears appearing in my eyes. He leaned to my flushed face and kissed me, shutting me up, then he got further down, trailing saliva on my sweat-dampered skin – and hell I was sweating like a pig. I shivered as Andrea began licking and sucking my neck – and I could have enjoyed the treatment without the fact I was so engrossed with his fucking fingers scissoring inside me and stretching me like hell – then he bit into the flesh, hard enough to elicit a trickle of blood to pour on my elbow and a louder whine of displeasure to part my lips. That bastard boss perfectly succeeded in a hickey which I swore could be seen one mile around.  
'Vooooi! You trash-like scumbag of a human, quit it already or I swear I'll fucking rip the shit out of you…'I struggled.  
'You don't like it, caro mio Squalo? And all this time I thought you were quite of a maso…' Andrea answered.  
'Like hell! Get already the fuck off m…' I couldn't finish my sentence. I accidentally bumped into Andrea, my freed hips making contact with his still clothed ones.  
'So you see you love it, my Squalo. You're so needy you started this…' He thrust into my hips, his fingers, now four, still playing with my inside.  
'Aaan… Aah! Mmm.' O miseria.  
'Aren't you happy now? I'm giving you more, soon… Squalo…' He unzipped his pants, revealing a red, thick and leaking shaft. He wasn't up to do that!  
'Diamine no!... Mmm. Voi, Andrea!...Aan! Stop this…ha… That's too…' Fuck it seemed it took me one hour to line up two words.  
'… Wicked? Maybe… I don't really claim for sanity, neither you, caro mio Squalo.' He brushed off everything on his desk before pinning me down. At least he let out his damn fingers.  
'Ugh!'  
'What's wrong, my cute Squalo? Displeased from the loss? Aa… It makes me want you to tear you right now…' He licked my right cheek.  
'Andrea… Please… Stop it.'  
'Pleading already… Lussurioso… So naughty, you're driving me mad. I'm glad how I've raised you.'  
Andrea hooked my legs on his shoulders.  
I felt something larger than fingers nudging at the ring of muscle. The bastard was really doing it! I bit the back of my hand to muffle any weird noise I would emit. Andrea pushed deeper. The deeper he went, the more painful I felt. I was quite sure I was bleeding down there – and also upper so badly I bit violently to the skin. It seemed it took years until his cock completely made all his way in me. I panted loudly. 'Merda!' My eyes looking anywhere but his blond locks framing his face.  
'Dear Squalo, I've never thought you'd be so tight in there…' He thrust lightly to underline his thought. I blushed.  
'So tight and hot… Aan… Squalo…'He said while allowing his wet tongue to linger on the shell of my ear. I couldn't even retort. It was like my whole body was parting in two. All I could do was frowning even deeper and thrusting my nails into the wooden desk behind me. That dick was filling me Andrea started going in and out, in and out, moaning in the process, and at some point he grabbed a tuft of silver hair and smelt it. Noisome. If I wasn't so proud – yes, some crumbs were still remaining in the back of my mind – I would have cried on the spot at the pain, with no care of the bastard.  
'Do you feel it, caro mio Squalo, me moving inside you? You can't say you don't… Nngh…' Andrea's breaths were close to my face. I tried as hard as I could to ignore them. But the sucker kept shit-talking like that for what it seemed to me hours. And aside all I could hear was the sound of flesh slapping against flesh, his hips against my ass, or else the sound of his crotch penetrating in my hole, a wet and slippery sound. I could bet Andrea was enjoying those sounds like a lullaby.  
That scumbag was pumping at a constant rhythm which grew faster from minutes to minutes. Our bodies were moving together, my legs swinging like an inarticulate ragdoll's, my stomach rising up and down with each push. Everytime he thrust too much, and it often happened, my back violently hit the desk. Another pain to deal with. Anyway his appendage moved smoother, perhaps due to the blood dripping from my hole. I couldn't even care; I was too busy seeming OK, a bunch of hair hiding my I-dread-teary-eyes, teeth still biting hard at my hand which was as bloody as my ass. 'Che' I thought. 'Another shit to take care of later'.  
I dared have a glimpse at my torturer: Andrea was still thrusting quickly, madly, his hands having a firm grip on my hips, and moaning as he went deeper, my ass sucking all of him. Sometimes he would bend over me and kissing almost affectionately my eyelids. Sadistic bastard – Vooi, if you don't know what I mean, go google Jack the Ripper on the net. Back to reality.  
'You can be so cute like this… Mmm… Dear Squalo. Your face flushed like a rosebud…Aan…Love you so much.' He kissed me as thrusting in me like a madman. From someone else, I would have taken that as a declaration of love. Not from Andrea. Not when he clearly showed his fucking sadistic eyes eagerly devouring each gasp of pain I couldn't muffle.  
Quello bastardo. A fucking bastard.  
His movements became more unsteady, and I could muse with a black humor he was near. He heightened my waist a bit by grasping his hand under one of my knee. Thanks to that I was on my side, but the change of position surprised me end made me lose my grip on the desk. I cried lightly when he thrust again. Fucking hurt. I bit my lower lip. 'Bastard' His face was radiating, mine was raging. But as I thought he was reaching his limits. One, two, three more hard thrusts and he came in me, filling my ass with his white liquid, coating my walls with its warmth.  
His whole body was weighting on me. He was panting, I was disgusted with myself. He tried to initiate a kiss, I only told him to get the fuck off of me. He simply chuckled and accepted. Andrea unsheathed himself out, his cock made a little 'pop' when going out, then zipped his pants. White, thick and hot semen dripped off my thighs, right on the desk. Everything was a fucking mess, me first. It made Andrea smile wider, which made me frown deeper.  
'It makes me want to lick it off those beautiful thighs. May I?' He rejoiced as trailing a finger towards my own cock.  
'Fuck. The. Hell. Off' I grunted. 'Where are my clothes?'  
Andrea made a gesture of ignorance. I had to pick up my clothes discarded on the floor by myself. And my butt fucking hurt. At least I still had my shirt on. Remained the pants and the jacket. I pulled and zipped the first and threw the second on my shoulders. It was hard to walk, an aching nestling in my back. I discovered with horror I was limping a bit – but like hell am I going to show it to that bastard! Andrea was sitting in his armchair, legs crossed, putting up that angel face he had mastered long ago. I so wanted to rip his eyes off, instead I walked to the door, not even giving a second look to my appearance.  
'Oh, and Squalo' Andrea hailed me 'Don't forget to call the cleaners before my next meeting. You've made such a mess here.' That ass.  
I grunted my teeth and went out, slamming the door behind me.  
   
Chapter 3  
'Both of us are invited to a fancy dress ball within two days.'  
'Aaah?'  
We were in the dining room. It was a long, spacious room enlightened by wide windows bordering the walls. There were no one else but us, other subordinates eating in the dining room – Andrea didn't like eating with commoners, as if he were himself the illustrious king of Great Britain – he only allowed me (or rather ordered me to have lunch, breakfast and dinner with him every fucking day God gave us) to keep him company.  
It was eight in the morning. We had already finished the breakfast and were idly resting in our damask-padded chair, serenely sipping black coffee. Or at least Andrea was. I was impatiently tapping my foot on the tiled floor, arms firmly crossed, scowl indecently apparent and eyes staring successively at Andrea's face and mug.  
'A fancy dress ball, my dear. It's like a party where you meet celebrities and where you have to wear odd clothes in order to positively impress eventual important spectators.' He explained.  
'I fucking know what a fucking ball is. What I'm a asking you is why you did say both of us.'  
'Oh, but I only meant both of us, Squalo: us, you and me, we, Bartali's current leader and his right hand man, myself and the one I chose to follow me to that mundaneness.'  
'That's why I'm saying I understand that part. The part I want you to make clear is why the hell I have to hang with you out of business related affairs.' I demanded. I really wasn't in the mood to put up with that bastard outside work. 'It's something like a shitty carnival, isn't it? Have already heard of that. Some shit like an annual gathering of the most powerful mafia boss all other the world. If you miss one, don't ever think of getting back to sunlight again. Only a meeting between the worst and unfortunately the mightiest people ruling the underground, a pigs' banquet, a feast of human blood. And you seriously want me to show up at those assholes' party disguised into a pink rabbit?' I mused, or I yelled, I don't really remember now. Perhaps – and more likely – both.  
'No, dear Squalo, Dio no. I've already bought your costume. Come in, Anita.'  
The said maid came into the dining room, bringing a quite large box labeled with one the most luxurious name on the dressmaking market, and even without reading it you could easily assume that from all the rustling, ribbons and shit wrapping the package. Anita put the box on the table and waited in the corner of the room for further directives from the boss. A well trained bitch.  
Andrea motioned me to open the box, so I did.  
And I would have slapped myself, again and again until I woke up from that nightmare. Andrea-that-asshole-bastard-boss had found a very new way of torturing me, and it perfectly fit into the fucking box that hellhound had just brought. O bitter destiny of mine. However like a good damned kid I first greeted the hellish present with my best cynicism.  
'Voooi, what the fuck is that, Andrea? Kind of joke? I warn you I wasn't good with them when I was younger. You know, I was rather the one others made fun of… But that, that's inevitably a gag, and a bad one. The hell passed through your mind the day you bought this? Besides it doesn't look cheap, that's paying too much for a bad trick! What a practical joke!...'  
'It isn't, Squalo.' He was glaring at me. Whenever he would get upset of my so nonchalant behavior toward him, he would call me Squalo, cutting all the my dears and shitty shit.  
'So you've been mistaken! You aren't seriously expecting me to wear this in public!' I retorted, horrified – I stood up from my chair –, and pointing at the looming abjection in the hellish fancy box.  
'Rigare diritto. I gently asked you to be dressed in this, so you will. Everything's as plain as that. Don't get me wrong: this isn't a pleading, this is my order. Never forget you're here to fulfill any of my wishes. At my order, whether I order you to kill anybody getting in my way, do kill them, whether I demand you to jump from a pit, do jump and fall, whether I commanded you to spread your legs for me, do spread them just like a whore would; I want no complaint but actions, my dear Squalo. You know me. This time the same as before, you're mine, you're my thing, my toy, ilmio(he particularly insisted on those words). Whether I cherish you or break you, it's all up to me, dolce miobambola'  
Andrea was starting to seem frightening. A frightening Andrea was something to be seen. Within one second he could alter without any transition from the status of Heaven's first Cherubim to Hell's most repulsive devil. Sometimes it would remind me of those movies with people possessed by demons, they would vomit all their guts out and fold their body in no imaginable way while grinning monstrously, head whirling like hell on their neck. And, well, I thought sometimes that would happen for real in Andrea's case – but then there would be no camera and no script at all; he would simply and solely rip the hell out of us.  
I pondered at that thought and smirked. That would have made a perfect motive to kill the son of a bitch.  
He gestured the maid to leave, so she did. We were alone again in the morning's quietness.  
\----  
Had you ever been on a trip in Sicilia and strolled about Palermo's side, wandering until you finally reached the Golfodi Castellammare, and then headed toward Alcamo city – a minor city barely seen in your map –, you would certainly have overheard about a castle standing somewhere inside the stony mountains and hills circling the area, overhanging the entire place. It doesn't look like extravagant royal castles; it's much more like a fort, all square and spare. For the mere tourist, the wide building would only seem to be a relic of the past, a collapsing tumbledown. Not for the natives. And especially that day.  
Or rather that night. The old medieval manor was glowing miles around; you could clearly hear a soft music – the type you would pay an astronomical price to listen at the Opera – coming out from the pile of rocks. You could assume from the crystalline laughs there were people gathering in there, a lot of. Because of the abrupt road leading to the fortress, limousines were nowhere to be found, replaced with more suitable cars.  
That was an annual custom: the three-day long official meeting of the biggest underground's conglomerates – in other words, the mafia.  
At ten, one from the stretched waiting line of luxurious cars stopped by the main entrance. A groom opened the rear door. Then a handsome fair haired dressed the same way as an eighteenth century's dandy appeared in the semi-crowded yard, drawing the audience's attention. But what left them short of breath was his gorgeous silver-haired companion, dressed in a sumptuous black fur robe and a red short pelisse, half-revealing pale slender shoulders. A black pearls necklace was strapping up the beauty's swan-like neck, and black gloves were concealing thin fingers. The apparition left the others speechless as the couple was elbowing their way through to the building. 'Who's that?' – 'The Bartali's heir.' – 'No, I mean that bellaragazza.' – 'A mannequin, perhaps, or an actress…' One could hear here and there people whispering. Silver hair was graciously whipping the air as the bellaragazza was heading to the front door.  
\-----  
'Low-life scum.' I muttered when another fucktard looked at me from head to foot. That was the eighth time that fucking evening, and I had been there for barely one hour. Fucking dress, fucking assholes, fucking party, fucking Andrea. That time my pride-level was low enough for me to trample on it.  
Yeah, Andrea finally made me wear that shitty dress. It took hours to put the attire and the makeup, but in the end, when I watched at my reflection in the mirror, I concluded with horror girlish things were fitting me, and not only moderately.  
I was leaning against a wall, where there were the least people. Andrea was nowhere to be seen. Meno male. I spent the entire evening avoiding strangers, contenting myself with mumbling silently at any question I couldn't escape from. However I could feel once in a while a gaze from a foreigner stripping me entirely.  
Filthy pigs. It had always been hell from when I was born, but that time was a kind of damnation where those hogs themselves had burnt me in. They make me want to butcher them no matter who they are: that fatass over there laughing fattyly at another fatass, that bitch at the opposite side of the room staring hypocritically at me before vehemently whispering to her bunch of friends, that sniveling rat (though there were no tears) flattering, pleasing, kissing feet and licking butts around him with eyes full of greed and venom… What a wonderful world I was living in!  
Since I started feeling a pricking sensation in my legs, I decided to go and get some bourbon at the bar next me. Shit. It was like being behind a powerful enemy's lines on high heels, dodging missile while keeping moving forward, silencing your fears and crushing down your foes. Still on high heels. Yet you're aware you're in a minefield; you're a sheep forsaken in a wolves-full forest.  
The soldier had finally completed his mission and was on his way to go back to his former position when someone suddenly jostled him from behind, causing the contain of the glass to pour on his uniform, before they sprawled on their stomach, right on the floor.  
A quarter of second after the collision I saw a mass of blond hair obstructing my eyes, I momentarily thought that was Andrea. 'Vooooi, shitty boss! Can't I have some time…' I silenced myself when I noticed his clothes. That wasn't Andrea's.  
'O-ow… That hurts' the clumsy idiot said while rising from the floor. I could presume he was about the same age as me. He was rubbing his back painfully, smiling like a dumb kid. 'My bad, Signora, I didn't see you…'  
'Vooi, scum. Who are you calling Signora?' I shouted for the first time I arrived.  
'Ah! Sorry, Signorina…'  
'The hell is wrong with your eyes? ... I mean with your ears?' I corrected myself. I almost forgot fucking stylists burnt down the greatest part of my masculinity.  
'Eeeh? You're a man? Ah- Wait!' he was up again and started following me as happily as a puppy would, tripping from time to time, as I was fleeing the little group of people gathered by the noise. Wouldn't that idiot leave me alone yet? He was that kind of tiresome people you say 'Hello' in the streets, then they immediately deduce you're the best friends in the world. Loners desperately seeking for human contact, I call them losers.  
'That surprises me a lot. Why are you dressed like this? Are you a transvestite?'  
I didn't sense any sarcasm in his voice; his questioning was only upsetting me.  
'Voi. Who in the world would happily cross-dress like a fucking bitch for the great sake of all the scum in this fucking party? And in the first place who would like to come to this fucking party' I added in a whisper, gritting my teeth. 'And why the heck 're ya following me?! I'll rip your ugly face so that your creator wouldn't recognize you, you moron!'  
The intruder wasn't ugly at all. I just said that to get rid of him. We made it to a deserted balcony. The sounds of the party were reaching us, but rather as if they came from a cavern: sonorous but distant.  
'Ah ah. You're mean! I do worry about your dress. Ah! I'm paying the laundry, of course. Your drink poured on it, didn't it? I think it stained…' He was right: there was a quite visible spot on the red fur. As I cared. 'But it's a very nice dress, it would be a shame if they can't do anything about it…'  
'Che! Are you the one wearing it? If you like it so much, I'll give it to you right now. You'll wear it as much as you like; I'll only keep your clothes instead.'  
'That wasn't really what I was implying…' he kept smiling stupidly 'I mean, that dress looks great on you – certainly because you are the one wearing it… It wouldn't have the same effect on me!' He laughed. Oh just why didn't I bring my sword with me… 'By the way, my name is Dino, nice to meet you.'  
'I don't think I have to let every mommy's shabby-boys know my name, but that's even. Superbi Squalo.' I grinned while shaking the other's hand.  
'So you're Squalo? What a funny name. Like a shark…' he paused then turned to the crowd inside, fixing at a point I couldn't find. 'Ah… Sorry, Squalo, I'm asked somewhere else, and it seems rather urgent…' he smiled nervously.  
'What? Still clenching to mommy and daddy?'  
'Oh no… That's a lot more frightening…See you, Squalo!' The Cavallone's boss ran inside, heading toward a young Asian man in a black suit, he was actually the only one in the castle wearing normal clothes. The Asiatico looked upset as he saw Dino apologizing (I assumed). He didn't say anything and finally walked away, the Don on his heels.  
I was alone again. I took a deep breath and leant on the balustrade. It wasn't midnight yet, the party wasn't to stop yet, so I settled on staying outside until that shitty boss would pick me up to go back home. I shivered a bit when a cold wind brushed against my naked shoulders. We were in mid-January, and even in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea, winters could be quite cold sometimes, but of course not as much as on the continent. I mechanically pulled my fur coat up. I was starting to fall asleep when I heard a very soft melody coming from the party. It was light, harmonious and sweet – my complete opposite; still I liked it, kind of. Oddly, I could have sworn the song wasn't totally unknown to me, though I didn't really care about stuff like that. Doctors used to say those were reminiscences from my past life, the one I had with my blood parents. They would happen sometimes, and I allowed them to do so. Again, I let the music overwhelm me, lazily tapping a gloved digit on the marble.  
All of a sudden I froze: I had the sensation of being spied, or rather hunted down like a prey. When you live in the underground, you quickly learn the basics to survive, and detecting a looming enemy is part of them. Anyway as long as I could recall, I've always been the hunter, the shark assaulting small fry; so feeling that dreadful aura on my back was very weird to me. Weird and irritating. The predator has that in common with me: whether something unfamiliar to my intelligence would threaten me, my first reaction is to ominously bare my teeth to it. On that trail of thoughts I glanced at the crowd inside to find them: a pair of dark red orbs eyeing me like a goddamn meat, hungry, dangerously burning and promising. Their owner was a tall tanned man with black and spiky hair, and dark scars covering his face in a fashion style. Like Dino he was dressed in an nineteenth century's outfit.  
It didn't take long for me to guess that alarming gaze had come from him. The dark man was drawing closer my spot.  
'Hey trash' his husky voice called while he was crossing the space between us, eyes bloodier as he approached 'so you're that lame ass Bartali's puttana?'  
That was the second time that evening I really whished I'd have brought my sword.  
   
Chapter 4  
'Hey trash, is that true you're that lame ass Bartali's puttana?'  
'Voooooi, you bastard. Who are you calling Bartali’s bitch??' I waved murderously a hand from my habit of wielding a sword to my opponents.  
'Of course, you, puttana. I see in addition of being a total whore your brain is also suffering from stupidity.' He drank greedily at a bottle of wine I didn't see he had brought with him at first, damn calm and haughty.  
It didn't amaze me, I knew that bastard. I mean I didn't have the great pleasure of meeting him yet, but I already saw him from afar during mafia assemblies. His name is Xanxus, the next heir of the Vongola family, basically the same type of organization as the Bartali's. As I said before, I only saw him from afar, taking glimpses on his high stature, his large back and spiky raven hair from behind, guessing dark skin, even darker scars and bloody red orbs. I never talked to him before – it's not like I couldn't, please don't misunderstand me: I could, but I didn't want to. You see, Xanxus Vongola is what you call a fucking spoiled brat, at his old padre's regret. He eats, drinks, swears, fucks, kills, drinks, swears and eats again. People would much more associate him to a caveman than anything else, but a caveman who can use guns and would happily make holes as big as your ass in your skull before resuming his orgy. And the funniest thing is that people would ever praise his name and ask for more. Fucking cattle of damn hell. If I placed this story in an empty-minded secondary school-brats context, I would be the ugly, socially retarded, unpopular guy anyone would flee from, bullied every fucking day by a fucking mentally disturbed Andrea asshole, while Xanxus would be the handsome, worshipped and stupid son of a rich business man. Just add in the dense pretty girl and you have your cutie love triangle. Great story, ain't this? I already own the rights. Back to our main point, you have a violent, alcoholic irresponsible and disrespectful 34 years old man, the next leader of the assassination group Varia, and the Vongola's first inheritor.  
Fuck that. That asshole broke Superbi Squalo's damn limits with the first sentence he told, and some had already had their guts ripped out for one word only. I could already smell the ferrous scent loitering in the air while a red sticky and thick liquid would gush on the pale floor. Damn thrilling. On the other hand I didn't bring my sword, and even drunk Xanxus still was a threat, a deadly threat to overpower. I'm not the kind of guy to do strategic withdrawals – rather the guy who kills first and asks questions after. But that time my instinct of self-preservation told me to shut the fuck up and wait for the menace to go away by itself. Yet again, my mind has blown up a long time ago, thus I grinned wickedly.  
'Voi, you'll have to bless God for the rest of your shitty life, scum, because I let it go for today. Now get out from my sight before I fucking seriously think about cutting your tongue off.'  
I swear I lost sight of that dickhead for barely one second to see – read: to goggle – at him completely overlooking me (I was on high heels, dammit!), a calloused hand gripping painfully at my arm, but above all his angry face two inches from mine. I could plainly see his features, from the refined curve of his jaw, his thin yet mannish chin, his heavy eyes circled by hardly ostensible bluish bags, blatant evidences of the debauched life he used to live; his large and scarred forehead was covered with black tufts which seemed softer when seen this near, a very light wrinkle was starting to appear between his eyebrows. He was reeking of wine and tequila like no hell. I kept quiet for about two seconds, as surprised as dumbfounded at the unexpected approach. He heatedly furrowed at me, his wrinkle deepening.  
'You piece of junk. Don't you ever think of giving me orders. I'd burn your shitty face down.' He then softened his hold and made a step back. Thin lips stretched into a fake smile. 'By the way what is that shit of a roba for?'  
I snapped.  
'Vooooi. You shitty piece of scum get the fuck off me! Fucking spoiled brat, do you think every butt-lickers in this scum-like world are made to serve and fear you until the very day of their awaited death? Just smile and wait gladly for feccia like you to bother them for every shitty need of your shitty life? A great mafia capo? Are you fucking kidding me? Muori! Scums of the earth like you just have to have their head chopped. That would be a goddamn relief for humankind! Just why the hell do I have to bear all the silliness in this fucking God forsaken world, to have a pervert forcing me into a shitty dress, a bloody idiot pouring booze on that shitty dress, and a fucking drunkard mocking at me because of the same shitty dress, everything the same fucking day? I don't ever know why the heck I am loosing time with a bastard like you! I'm leaving this shitty party. Screw you! Screw all of you! Like hell would I put up with those hogs anymore…'  
I was at the point of heading to the door when I tripped and fell. I tripped and fell in front of that bastard. How humiliating. I started blushing – one more embarrassment to add on my oh-so-very long list of awkward moments. However an unknown force obliged me to look back at what I presumed was a laughing-his-ass-down smug son of a bitch; and then I saw the said laughing-his-ass-down smug son of a bitch's foot pressing on the tail of my goddamn dress.  
'I asked, trash, what that shit of a roba is for. I'm waiting for your fucking answer.'  
'Vooi,'re ya retard or something?' I burst. 'Get off!' I pulled on my dress and finally freed it from his jailer. I heard another burst of laugh from the inside. Luckily it wasn't because of my 'accident'. I somehow got up, dust off my outfit and rolled it up to my knees, keeping it like that. I didn't what that fucker to nark me about it anymore. I glared at the drunkard.

'Tell me why the hell did you do that, and I warn you if your explanation doesn't satisfy me, I'll rip your balls off.'  
Xanxus leant on the barrier, back facing the night, head up and disdainful.  
'Because I felt like it, dumb trash. Do you have a problem with that?'  
'…'  
I mentally facepalmed. That's right, Xanxus is so to speak a 34 years old grown up man with a 10 years old schoolboy's mentality, and the world is his playground. A real pain in the ass to deal with.  
'Che. I'm leaving. I'm fed up with this shit. Go fuck yourself.'  
'I'd rather you instead.'  
If glares could kill Xanxus would be dead since a long long time, or at least severely wounded – if we were in those stupid battle game, his energy gauge would certainly have turned from green to orange. But yet we were in real life and the bastard was wholly safe and sound. He just drank his booze at one draught before throwing it somewhere. I heard it crash in a dark corner.  
'Vooi. What really is your fucking problem with me?' I yelled. 'Can't you simply get yourself to …'  
'You're fucking noisy, trash. You're giving me a headache.'  
'And whose fault is that, fucker?' I shouted louder. 'I never asked you to come here and bother the fuck of me. You are the one annoying me!'  
'Bitch, if you don't like it it's even. Feel free to go your way.'  
'Why the fuck should I be the one leaving? I was here first. You go leave!'  
'Shut up. Fucking prostituta just has to do what I say.'  
'Fuck off! I already told you not consider me as your fucking bitch!'  
'I don't know how to see you differently. For me you're merely a goddamn long haired whore in a fancy dress. Do you want lies with that?' Xanxus laughed.  
Shit. I was tired of it. It was turning into a children's fight. That hellish night would have been somehow manageable if that sucker didn't come out. What was that scum's problem, truly? I'd never done anything to needle him, yet I had to deal with his childishness and that stupid hassle. Fucking annoying asshole. Che hai? Ti scosta!  
'Do you know that song? I caught you mumble it earlier.' He said after a while.  
'Huh? Now what?' I totally forgot about the song. It was still playing in the air, and was noticeably heard from the balcony.  
'Your brain do badly sucks. I'll help you remember it…'  
Without further ado, Xanxus came up to me and grabbed my hands.  
'Come? The heck?!...'  
'Shut up, scum.'  
He hooked my left hand on his back, and kept the right one shoulder-leveled, evidently parted from my chest. He then tugged my waist ahead, closing both our bodies. It took him three seconds to do that with me struggling like hell.  
'The fuck are you…'  
'We're moving now, freak.' So we did.  
The music was rousing, light and easy to follow, though I didn't use to dance on classic music; hell I didn't use to dance at all, left being the one lead! I stopped fighting back and, well hey, I quietly let Xanxus lead me. I wasn't joyfully submitting; I was just too busy watching where to place my clumsy feet. I didn't want to trip over again (yeah, you can weigh up my poor dancing skills) and meet with a new humiliation – yet now I sense a kind of contradiction: so I didn't want to embarrass myself by falling down, but I allowed that ass to playfully drag me to a round dance? Fuck.  
Sometimes I would glance nervously inside the castle: no one was watching us, thank goodness they hadn't heard our argument. Wait. An argument? I correct myself: arguments are things that happen within familiare, between children and their parents, or within couples. Xanxus and I were none of these. I'd rather call that a row. Back to where I deviated, we were more or less isolated from the people inside, which was for me a real bless. That would have been the best: two Mafiosi dancing together like a newly married couple! My pride wouldn't have survived at this.  
Against the odds, Xanxus was a good dancer. And that was weird beyond doubt. The high alcohol rate in his blood was making him move slowly, but he managed to stay in rhythm with the melody. We kept whirling all over the balcony, tagging along with the symphony, one step on the left, followed by one step on the right; at a change of time, Xanxus would toss me with one hand, draw me near again, and then pirouette me once more; he would continue turning around, bending me here and there, stretching an withdrawing our arms over again. His free arm was loosened on my hip while his head was resting against mine, sometimes his jaw would eerily brush against my skin, or he would lazily sink his chin in my hair, a silvery shining river waving along with our movements; the smell of alcohol had became an abnormal pattern.  
We continued like that until the very end of the song.

I would be damned would I say I enjoyed it a bit by the end.  
He still didn't want to release me. He indolently kept his chin against my temple. I couldn't ignore his heavy breath disappearing in my silver mane.  
'Vooi,'re ya happy now, bastard? So leave me al…'  
I was muttered by hungry lips crushing on mine, licking, biting, chewing, devouring. Xanxus was a great dancer, but he was a better kisser. His tongue was intertwining with mine, skillfully stimulating it. He grabbed my chin and forced my head to tilt aside to allow him a better access and pulled my waist even closer.  
'Mmm… Aan! ...'  
I couldn't help but moan at the process. Xanxus tugged on one tuft on silvery hair and ghostly grazed a thumb on my neck.  
It hadn't taken more time until he got me turned on. My legs started shaking.  
It was something new to me, nothing like Andrea. It was something hot, overwhelming and defeating, all at the same time. Xanxus' kiss was an attack reducing all your defenses to nil and ravishing you until you crave for more. I tasted wine, tequila, bourbon and a load of wrath on his appendage, and maybe were they affecting me too, that would be why I let him carry on his treatment, and hang ever harder on well-toned arms. As I said, the kiss was ravaging; soon I was out of breath. A slight shade of pink got to my cheeks. I faintly gripped at Xanxus' back to alert him I needed to breathe. That asshole didn't break until I pulled him harder, totally breathless, a trail of saliva drooling on my chin, knees weakened enough for me to fall another time, but I was too busy catching my breath to care about.  
Only God knows how I ended up crammed between Xanxus and the fucking balustrade, not minding the vacuum behind me.  
Our faces finally parted. I was blushing and panting like hell, trying to scowl at that bastard, but I guessed I failed and instead gave him a pitiful pout.  
'Voi… That song… Ah… That's fucking geezer Viv… Mmm!' I said between two pants, before he started kissing me again. Once again I let myself being overcome by his existence.  
One minute later we stopped our making-out session. Both of us were gasping for air. I was propping myself on Xanxus' chest, fists clenching on his jacket and forehead hidden by his left shoulder. Relatively recovered from my almost suffocation, I cast a glance at my partner. What I saw – bloody red eyes grown dim by an unfathomable lust itching for more than a kiss – wasn't exactly what you expect to see to set your mind at rest. So I caught the drunkard's gaze: he was staring down at me abruptly as a starving man would fix at a piece of underdone carne.  
'Trash.' He murmured at my ear 'Be mine.'  
Midnight rang at the castle's orologio.  
   
Chapter 5  
5:47 a.m.  
I woke up with the shittiest headache in the world. The bedroom was still dark, but the sun wouldn't be long to show its first rays. I was feeling dizzy and sick, the back of my head weighed tons, and that was not from a hangover. That would have been great. I looked around for my clothes to notice I wasn't in my own bedroom. It was Andrea's – a large, bright, cold room which seemed as welcoming as an undertaker's strato funebro.  
'Shit.' I muttered while rubbing my tired eyes.  
So that was the reason of my headache. I sat down and looked nearby: the blond was still sleeping like a log, eyelids shut peacefully, breath steady, blond hair a mess. I watched as he serenely let his guard down, allowing himself to slumber so deeply beside me. His bare chest was waving quietly, a sheet thrown carelessly on his naked body showed a creamy nape, which was draped here and there by golden locks.  
Pig that is soaked in soup of crime, an undesirable voice droned on in my head.  
That vision switched my killer's instinct on.  
My eyes narrowed more precisely at that point. I could guess under his white skin every single vessel pumping the red fluid all over that dead-like body. It thumped, thumped, thumped loudly, too loudly for my predatory ears. Ferric orbs fastened on a bare neck. I could say exactly where to exercise the adequate pressure to stop the blood flowing into his members. There, beside his Adam's apple, just a bit higher, there was the carotid: would I take a slim razor blade and cut on two points, it would have left him with a forever-Stallone-face. Either I made a cut deep enough into that flesh just behind the ear, I could easily empty it of all its blood; either I gave a light blow there, I would leave him fully unconscious – whether I hacked his body into hundreds scraps, stabbed that pallid neck until only a thin fragment of skin would hold it on to the rest of the corpse, whether I skinned him alive and slashed his bloody flesh, it would all have been up to my fucked up mind. And my pulse quickened, and my breath got louder. Dammit! Seeing his undisturbed face made me want to punch him awake. How can someone even doze off in those conditions: having a blood-thirsty assassin sleeping next to him, glaring at him while emitting a so dreadful aura? Luckily for Andrea, my sword was still in my room – that was also one of the reasons he always dragged me to his bedroom for fuck.  
I grimaced with repugnance and hatred, a bitter taste stuck on my tongue. I felt humiliation.  
Don't show that dirty face again.  
'What the fuck am I doing here?' I sickened every time I woke up in that room. That day wasn't an exception.  
The Bartali's boss grunted in his sleep and tried unconsciously to catch me. Disgusted, I got up before he would notice I was still there. I headed for the door and went out, naked from tip to toe. I could care less. No one in the mansion would wake up before nine, and my apartments, as Andrea's, were in an independent wing, so I wasn't up to get myself caught for exhibitionism.  
I crossed the corridors which separated me from my bedroom before reaching it. I closed the door silently behind me, leant my back to it and stared blankly at the ceiling.  
There was nothing really interesting to see. It was an usual bedroom with its double letto, its wide guardaroba (a real waste because I only wear the formal suit plus some casual clothes, nothing extravagant – of course without regard to my very new lady's attire. Fuck), a desk and one or two couches facing dark curtained windows. The basics for Andrea Bartali's kept woman.  
You are the same as a leech which sucks blood to live.  
'Yeah. Why do I do that, huh?' I said as a continuation of sooner's thoughts.  
Without waiting for an answer to come out, I went to a door at the back of the room. There was my private bathroom.  
I wanted to take Andrea's scent off first. That sickening, nauseating and filthy scent.  
Isn't it funny how day by day nothing changes but when you look back everything is different? That's like shit, and when you become aware of your world it has become a fucking hell of a mess. I accepted Andrea's presence little by little, let him rot gradually my life, my soul, my devotion. When I would glance on the 'me' at an earlier time, all I could see was a vacuum as deep as hell, as dark as ink.  
I am your good tool. How much do you buy me for?  
Shut the fuck up, jackoff.  
I sat down on the cold tiled floor in the pouring hot water of my doccia, hair gummed to my wet limbs. I really looked like a kicked puppy. Over and over again I would stay like that for almost half an hour before regaining consciousness. So I did at last.  
'So what?' I grinned faintly. 'That's all? It will take more to break me, fucker. Who do you think your opponent is? You won't get me down with only that.'  
I tried to get up like previously. I couldn't. Shit.  
Shame on you!  
'What now? I really am not into playing.' So I groaned while keeping sitting under the falling water, no will to get up.  
'Che. I guess that's it. Fucking life. Well, it hasn't been a so bad one. Could have been worse.'  
I smiled and tilted sadly my head, closing my eyes. What were those shit-like thoughts? I mused at my naivety, I was just about to laugh.  
'Man, what am I? An ol'geezer daydream about his lost youth? Like hell. Shit. I'm fed up with all this. So I'm gonna end up like that? I suppose I'm only worth that dead end at last. The fuck am I talking about? Steam is fucking muddling my mind, I gotta get outta here. Shit. Again.'  
I still couldn't get up.  
I was on the edge of breaking down.  
Right before my eyes, the world had decayed.  
What does remain of a man when he's facing his very near death? Some would pray for their god, some would cry and cherish the last hours left, some would go mad and kill everyone coming close to them. If you round off, maybe I'm part of the last category. I would simply let the sheer beast in me consume his tamer, the one who lead me to that state. Andrea.  
It will gnaw at your brain. 'Cutting your head! Cutting your head! Cutting your head!' It won't stop screaming, crying, howling in the back of your head.  
'Right now... in front of me! Right now... in front of me! Right now... in front of me!' You certainly cannot understand my vulgar thoughts.  
Silvery orbs darkened with a desperate desire of killing, ogled impassively yet murderously to the water flooding the tiled floor; legs previously inert were earning slowly but surely new vigor; fingers twitched nervously on bony knees.  
I don't wanna become the fuckin' garbage like you.  
Flash of shattered memories were flooding in my head; memories of a dried out città, a skinny stray dog, a group of greedy children with aged skin, and a younger myself wandering bare feet in Sicilia's streets, starving like no hell, limbs wounded and dirty and scrawny, like a fish in the ocean without water; memories of my cut hand, memories of me with the late Bartali boss, memories of us and our fellows fighting together, laughing together, then fading one by one, dying one by one until the only thing remaining were dimness, ants that devour each other inside of the nest.  
Was it a mistake to have entrusted you?  
Then memories of Andrea's arrival (it made my teeth ground), memories of all that shame I had to live in, of the filth, lewdness and dirt that name, Andrea Bartali, was associated to. I was stuck in a loop of a vicious circle.  
I was seeing all of those in a flash.  
Even if time is longing for oblivion I won't forget.  
Suddenly I paused. I paused on the previous day's memory.  
Memory of that Xanxus bastard.  
'Be mine.' He said.  
I reach out my hand for powerless love, said the crucified weak person.  
I smirked even more like a madman.  
'The heck 're ya blabbering 'bout, ya dickhead? Shit. What are they all thinking about? What the fuck do you hope from me? Is it a hopeless last scene? The only thing you really know about me is I can't answer your silly wish. All those fucking spoiled brats, those fucking drunkards, those fucking idiots, those people who dropped to their hands and knees and eat mud, all those people become cani tied to their chain; should I just slash the fuck of those scums of the earth? All these losers will happily sing a hymn in hell. Even if you're begging, ugly, disgraceful, there is no oasis prepared in there. I'm so very sick of them. Shame, motherfucker, fuck you! Fucking headache doesn't want to settle down. Vooi Andrea, you bastard. It was your duty to train a slave waving a waist. So? Had fun when fucking me throughout these years? I'll deal with your case soon. Now let's negotiate the value of the pain... Shitty face of yours' gonna learn how to breathe without lungs. You and that Xanxus bast… That Xanxus bast…'  
I stopped dead. Fuck. I shouldn't have recalled that jerk. What was his problem after all? And why the hell did I have to put up with his selfishness all that shit of a party long…  
And that.  
Do you know what you removed in the party meeting place of that day...?  
My shoulders jolted without warning at that hot kiss thought, feeling his burning gasp on my skin. A peculiar odor of rage, madness, egoism and alcohol was emanating from him. Back then I sensed something different. In what way? I couldn't say. I still can't. Should I say impressiveness? It seems quite childlike. Merit? I don't think anyone gathered at that party would have some. Yet, it was there, it was lingering silently in the air, traipsing … Yeah. It was overwhelming. I give him that. I recalled his husky voice whispering those strange words in my ears, his face so damn close to mine…  
Crap.  
Only thinking about that made my lower-self twitch in anticipation… Wait! I blushed wildly. Anticipation for what?  
My legs shook convulsively, my breath shortened and my eyes got clouded. My mind was getting messed up. What the hell was that? I still was curled up on the ground; water was still downpouring on me; little puffs of air were swelling in the steamed and vaporous atmosphere – all of that got me more and more lightheaded. Passed a certain point, I could barely put together coherent thoughts, I didn't even remember why the fuck was I drenched wet in my shower. Unconsciously I reached for my half-hard member. Being aware of my fingers ghosting on my sensitive shaft built my want up. I squeezed my twitching member harder.  
'Fuck.'  
I sighed at the touch. I needed to get rid of that hard-one, I needed to find release. 'Now!' I insisted.  
Just why the fuck was I getting so turned on by only recalling that Xanxus bastard? So I thought as I was slowly pumping my flushed member, softly panting in the process, eyes fastened to the white ceiling. How frustrating. Was I a giovane da 14 anni? Shit. I pumped faster. It was progressively getting better while breathing became intricate, but I still couldn't relieve myself. That was bad. That really was bad.  
My attention started rambling all over the place. I had to find something. What got me into that state first place? …That Xanxus bastard. Yet it didn't delight me I had to remind that fucker's face, how he used to hold me, how he used to bruise my lips, how he used to fondle my hair…  
'Aan…'  
My cock began leaking. I stroked even faster when I felt something hot and unbearable building itself up in my stomach, my eyes still locked above. I was near, so near though I couldn't come. I cast my eyes down on what I was doing. I slowed my ministrations. Having a sight of my hard and flushed flesh, as straight as a poker and white semen trickling from the tiny slit, dirtying my still clenching and pumping fists, got me even more turned on. But that was until I started fantasizing about Xanxus' scarred hands clamping on my twitching member. I still remembered his tight and warm grip on my arm…  
'Fuck… Xan…'  
My vision got blurred one second. I couldn't stop whimpering. One swift finger made contact with the dripping slot and leisurely sank in while the other hand was petting my balls. I kept on like that for some time, successively pumping, teasing, clenching and stroking, then repeating the same process yet again. More and more white fluid was coating my hands and thighs.  
As I was nearing my climax, one hand left my cock to move toward my hole. The flesh was still loose because of the recent fuck and the hot water still pouring in it, so my fingers didn't meet much resistance when I smoothly slide one, then two of them inside.  
'Mmh…! Ah!'  
It was yet an odd feeling, having my own fingers pushing in me, stretching my hole and probing my inside. The first thrust was slow. I was looking for that spot…  
Soon I was thrusting with a steady rhythm with one hand while the other was pumping my shaft. Almost …  
I added in a thirst finger and thrust even deeper. I could feel I was brushing against a bundle of nerves; I instinctively carry on pushing on it. It was driving me nuts. I licked on my lower lip and spread my legs wider. I braced my hips and then thrust forward, into my hand hitherto doing my front, before once more impaling itself backward on my fingers. First times it was dawdling and sluggish. I almost screamed at the contact with my prostate, instead I tightly shut my eyes. I continued thrusting in me, my back brushing against the wall behind me, the cold temperature of the tile contrasting utterly with mine. I finally found my pace and plunged with more confidence, reiterating the motion one more time, bringing me one step after another to my climax, making me moan louder and louder…  
'Xanxus… Un… Ah… Aaan!'  
I came hard in my hand and all over my stomach, inside muscles clenching hard on my fingers, outside hand tightening his grip on my cock.  
I breathed loudly, mind as blank as the thick liquid pouring from me, and then stared, expressionless, at the semen mixed water flowing into the shower's plug.  
I don't know how long it took for me to emerge from my dullness.  
I got up. I was heading for the door of my bedroom when I saw my reflection in the body-length specchio. I blushed a deep red.  
'Screw you.' I said before going out.  
For the first time in years I wasn't loath to see my naked body.  
\-----  
The castle was as crowded as last night. Andrea and me were still in his car.  
'Squalo' Andrea said suddenly with an unsmiling tone. 'Don't forget, giammai, who you belong to.'  
I lazily peeped toward him.  
'Aa.' I grunted as an answer, before leaving the vehicle.  
   
Chapter 6  
Asfissia.  
It's bringing you into dizziness; it's bringing you down; it's mesmerizing. First it hurts, it's burning, the pressure on your larynx makes you want to choke. You gasp for air, you gasp, you gasp but nothing is coming in. It seems there's nothing connecting your head with the rest of your body anymore. Then the underside of your eyes, just under your down eyelids, starts tickling, your vision is blurring, gradually, you can't perceive exactly the things surrounding you. Your throat hurts like hell. You panic, you bring both of your hands to the pincers strapping your neck up, you try to struggle, but soon you don't have enough strength to fight back; you surrender. That is the first phase.  
Next is the minute you understand you can't do anything but give in, you start feeling odd warmth enveloping you; you don't even remember the vise strangling you. You close your eyes. You give up to that universe swallowing you, you dive in. You dive into an ocean of freedom, you're drowning, your mind freed from all the anxiety, all the stress, all the fear the previous world you were living in had brought to you; the knife has been removed from the bleeding wound. You submit to that power which has succeeded in untying your body and spirit from its human boundaries; you literally fly in the air, yet with broken wings. Can't you see your legs are still tied to the ground? The earth breaks off beneath your feet. You don't care, you're already floating miles from the slough, miles away into the unlimited Sky; you say farewell to shambles.  
But at last you lose your grip. The hold on your neck has gone. You fall down, down, down, down to the mud. Da capo. You breathe again but it's hurtful, oppressive and meaningless. You become aware of your surroundings again, but it's a disappointment; sky, feathers and redemption are nowhere to be seen, all left is dirt, loneliness, soreness, and you know it. You know they're reality because they have always been there, waiting for you, waiting for your awakening. What would you do? You crave for more, you plead, you implore, you pray for more. Wonder whether you'd get it some day…  
This is how you become a fucking junky.  
\---------  
'Voooi. You're a pain in the ass.'  
'So harsh words you're using, caro mio. Aren't you glad to enjoy that wonderful party with your beloved master?'  
'Aah? Who is that scum? All I see is a crowd of shitty farts, a lame bunch of stupid pigs, and you're no better than them. I want to go home already.'  
It was the second night of the party held in that tumbledown castle. As always it was an incredible display of all the luxury and splendor of the mafia families. Avvoltoio tearing off what remains of humankind.  
I was sitting next to Andrea, a pedestal table with a demijohn of vodka above, in a semi-dark corner of a wide dancing room, gulping down my sixth glass of vodka – we had been there since ten, so I was doing that for about two hours –, yet unable to ignore the incessant coming and going, two steps further. That evening too, that asshole found it really gratifying to make me wear another fucking dress, that time relatively different with the first; a weird outfit constricting my body from top to bottom – or rather from my shoulders naked trunk, my legs were freed enough for me to move as much as necessary ; moreover a white veil – idem to the rest of the costume – a white veil was hiding the top of my trunk not hidden by my chignon hair. 'Everything is toning together. Lovely, caro mio.' That fucker Andrea said back home. I was resignedly hoping for that fucking party to end as soon as possible.  
Oh Jesus fucking Christ. Why the hell couldn't I manage to get drunk? And why did people have to talk so loudly when I was nearing a fucking headache? They kept swinging, laughing and chit-chatting like women… Couldn't they just go die silently for the sake of mine? Crap. I was fucking tired hearing their nonsense, and Andrea didn't want to leave me alone one fucking second. So instead of kicking in Andrea's chair, I took another glass and drank it at one gulp like its forerunners.  
'You shouldn't drink that much, caro mio Squalo. Festa won't end before long.' Andrea said while taking out the glass from my hand, smiling mischievously as his habit.  
'Vooi, shithead. I don't want you to watch over me, I'm not a child anymore! Why don't you go somewhere else get on some motherfucker's nerves? I feel wretched by seeing your shitty face only.'  
Andrea smiled inoffensively. 'How can you say that? You're being so mean, dear Squalo …' At a snail's pace he reached for my knotted hair and played with some time. 'It's like you never used to be with me, like we never used to be together… Right now it quite hurts me…'  
He grabbed the back of my head and tried to pull me closer. It made me snap. I could have borne his behavior, but another day. Not a day not only he had me wear a fucking dress in a stupid party (but that, I was somehow getting accustomed to), but also when I was on the verge of the shittiest headache of my life (counting the one I had that morning).  
'Vooi. Put your fucking hand down or I swear God I'll cut it for real.' I hissed and tossed violently Andrea's hand away. 'I'm already putting up with your silliness in private, so don't fucking annoy me in public, piece of junk.'  
As expected, the Bartali boss didn't just give the go-ahead to my insurgence. He quickly released my hair and dug sadistically his nails into my throat, eyes widened and twisted.  
'A-ah.' He smirked 'Did I ever give you permission to speak to me like this? My cutie little donnaccia is revolting? I dare you. Just how many times did I have the opportunity to slay you because of stuff like that, in your opinion? How many times did I have to instruct you on your standing? Ti amo, Squalo, molto; that's why I have to teach your beautiful mouth how to address me wisely, from now on...'  
Swiftly, I gripped at Andrea's hand and, with match violence, tore it out from my throat. I stood up brutally, crashing the bottle of vodka behind me, and glared murderously at him.  
'Che! Sure, scum! Voi chiedete? Just bring it on. I'll rip the fuck out of you.' I yelled at a taken aback Andrea. Then I stomped into the dancing crowd, forcing my way in the whirls and fake smiles I didn't stop meeting, and got out from the ball room.  
The old castle was something architecturally simple, however one has to admit it was a quite well built spacious edifice, as any fortress. The inside had been fully renovated to receive the three-night long party. They weren't only satisfied with adding electricity and current water, they also redecorated the entire bastion with a modern interior design so that anyone who had been in the interior without seeing the outside would have been totally clueless of its oldness. So I was idly pondering while crossing Persian carpets covered corridors, eyeing here and there numerous famous artists' ugly paintings. Atmosphere was glutted and gloomy like in a bad horror film; all the alcohol in my blood was starting to take effect, my eyelids seemed to weight tons, my head was spinning; I was walking less and less straight, slowing my pace and stopping from time to time to pull myself together. The ball room was on the ground floor so I had no stairs to take anymore. I was slackly wandering in those labyrinths when suddenly I felt a fresh air brushing on my cheek. Exit, alla fine! I hurried forward and took a deep breath of fresh air when at long last I reached the back giardino.  
Contrary to the front entrance, a wide area of sandstone and pebbles, the back giardino had been pleasingly embellished with flower beds, bunches and clumps of various flowers arranged with elegance, groves, trees and shrubs you never thought you'd see in your entire life. The whole lot was scattered quite carelessly all over the place, but in a good taste. There was no lamp post. All the light was coming from the castle's windows and another point, paler, in the middle of the giardino from which I could hear the soft and cheerful sound of downpouring water. I approached. In the core was standing a huge stone fontano. It was representing a squatting woman with a jug she was pouring down on her feet, the water was then pouring out, in an enormous bowl. The place was bordered with other statues and columns.  
I sat on the rim and sank my face into my hands. The sound of water was calming me, somehow.  
'At least nobody would think about looking for me here.' I thought while rubbing my temples. If truth be told I wasn't really the lonely type, but it doesn't mean I was fond of others' company. With time, I only became less and less talkative – everything thanks to Andrea. It made an absolute success in converting me into a socially retarded recluse.  
Noises were heard from the inside, a blend of cacophony and hubbub. How could they even stay in there without going deaf? My headache didn't settle down. Neither my drunkenness. Fuck. Was that vodka some kind of delayed alcohol? Well… That was certainly – because in no way, and I say no way, I would allow myself to do what I've done next – the reason why I started slumbering, all defenses down, on the cold edge of the fontano; it was broad enough for me to sleep deeply, and I was drunk enough to let that happen.  
Just try downing a bottle of vodka, you'd know in what kind of torpor you can fall in. It's an inertia with no dreams, no sensations and no self-awareness – sometimes, often, you would wake up with your pants dirtied with a mixture of God only knows what. Yet in most of cases unconsciousness is the best way out; because being dead drunk, even in your own dejections, is way better than vomiting your guts out anywhere and everywhere, or dancing fully naked in front of a room filled with people with whom you're working everyday – not as if I've ever experienced that situation before.  
So back to me, I was sleeping like a child in a giardino I wasn't used to, in the middle of the night. I was curling up on my side, fists clenched and breath composed. My mind was blank, my brains numb.  
Thus I truly couldn't explain myself why I was feeling an unusual sensation on my skin, still, in my doze I couldn't say exactly where.  
It began few times after I'd started sleeping. It was tickling, frustrating, driving me mad, but the same time it felt good and was electrifying my body, inch by inch. The impression remained some time; it was light but it was enough to give me goose flesh.  
'Mmh…' I mumbled when I felt it harder. In my wobbly brains, I didn't quite register the ridicule of the situation; back then all my mental power was focusing on toughening that feeling – something I couldn't achieve, me ne rincresce.  
Nevertheless as I was awakening bit by bit from my slumber, the tickles became clear; I could say without a doubt what I was feeling wasn't from a dream I didn't even have. Consciousness was gradually coming back as I slowly opened my eyes. Okay, I know I wasn't plainly sober, I surely couldn't have walk straight at that moment. Even though, come on, as a ruthless guy as I was, the sight of Xanxus kissing/licking/biting my neck, a hand peacefully stroking my thigh – I don't know how he did to roll up that fucking dress without me knowing it – while the other was on my waist, did frankly shocked me.  
'Vooooi. What th… the f-fuck 're ya…' My thick tongue tried to formulate. My hand pushed weakly the raven's head away, with no success.  
'You're awake, trash. It's your fault for sleeping so naively in a place like this. After doing this don't complain about getting assaulted by strangers... Though you're not allowed to do that with anyone but me.' Xanxus smirked at me before returning his attention on my hickey-covered skin. He was topping me so I could barely move under him. His spiky hair was tickling my chest, and his burning hands were, just at that moment, fondling on a sensitive spot. It made me shiver.  
'Shit, Xanxus, why… are ya… Ngh!...'  
He bit hard on my skin. 'That's why I say you're a dumb shark trash. I already told you you're mine.'  
He didn't say anything about me knowing his name, nor the fact that he knew my nickname. I shifted vaguely when I felt the Xanxus' arousal brush against me. 'I don't remember… accepting such a… such a sh-shit.'  
Xanxus grabbed my hands and fastened them over my head. He then stared angrily at me.  
'I wasn't asking.'  
'Vooi. Ricuso!'  
'M'importa assai.'  
Indeed I could have burst at that time, but I didn't. I assumed I was too drowsy, so I let Xanxus continue although I was sure groping wasn't his only purpose. I was right. My legs were spread wider pretty rapidly, as a skilled tanned hand was sliding toward my pants. What I can't explain now is why I didn't kick that bastard's ass off; I was drunk, but not absolutely vulnerable. Instead I whined and embraced the large back above me.  
'Mmph! Ftop doin' th…' I sulked.  
He didn't 'ftop', and like an alternative he gazed at my underwear. 'Eeh. Trash, you're wearing lacey panties.'  
'Voi, shut up!' I said, embarrassed as Xanxus played with the undergarment's frill. 'If you don't like it then just quit tha … Aaan!'  
I moaned wildly whilst tightening my grip on his shoulders when that asshole ground his groin against mine. I didn't notice Xanxus had me already that turned on. Just how long had he done that to me? So I thought while looking angrily at the bastard's self-satisfied face. As an answer he licked at my ear shell. I shuddered. Nonetheless my dull-witted brains accomplished an achievement in putting those words together.  
'And… Vooi, how did you find me… Ungh!... here…' I panted along with my indolent rubbing against the raven haired.  
He leered. 'Stop talking, puttana. Did you expect me to lose my quarry's trail?'  
That goddamn bastard. It would have pleased me to turn him down. However the peak of my orgasm was stirring me up. Therefore two ferocious desires were tearing me: the throbbing heat on my lower half demanding for a lot more attention, and my inflexible laziness. At last the weight constantly increasing of my eyelids told me the second had overcome the first. Yet, I kept waving my waist for Xanxus', but the latter finally noticed I was getting sluggish.  
'You piece of shit.' He warned. 'Move faster…' He suddenly paused and gave me a disbelieving look. 'Hey, don't tell me you're falling asleep!'  
I didn't entirely understand what he was saying anymore, nor see the incredulous and fuming face of his. My body had stopped moving; only my arms were still weighting on Xanxus' back, hugging him fondly like a big teddybear, and appreciating the soft warmth of his body. Then, slowly, my hands shifted to his neck, so he was obliged to bend his head forward closer to mine in order to support me.  
'Shark, what the fuck are you up to…?'  
His voice remained unheard. Without thinking (I swear I wasn't) and eyes hardly opened, I unhurriedly leant my face on his and – still unconscious – delicately brushed my cheek then my lips on Xanxus', before I passed out.  
'Mmm. Later on, you ass…' I finally murmured in my sleep.  
   
Chapter 7  
There was strange warmth surrounding me. It was something odd, unknown and spicy. I've never felt like that before; such an unusual feeling, an alien impression, I wasn't used to it. I've never been used to it, yet I was sure once anyone would have known that sensation for the very first time they would never be able to go back to real life anymore. Was I dead? Let me see… One, two, three, four, five… no, I still could feel my fingers – flesh ones and mechanical ones – twitch and some kind of red and hot light behind my closed eyelids. Guess that was sunlight. Was it morning? I thought… Damnit. I didn't want to wake up. I was too comfortably cocooned in warm and soft sheets. The feeling was exactly like in summertime holiday. You know, it wasn't like those shitty family holiday at the sea, mommy, daddy hanging with you everywhere you go and humiliating you in public, bros and sis kicking your ass down of the bed because they isn't enough room so everyone has to sleep together, nor taking hundred of photos with granny and her fucking pet all over the place then forgetting you didn't save any of them, so back to the start again.  
Not like I had those kinds of memories.  
Nah. It was much more like this: soft breeze on your skin, sun's welcoming calore on your neck and a soothing scent of sea, trees and a remaining of rain engulfing into your nostrils. You wake up in the morning with the same sensation as before, your whole body is relaxed, your mind in peace. A mug of coffee (cappuccino with no sugar, your favorite) is fuming on your nightstand, seagulls are singing outside. You look on your left and what you see is crushing you: it's the sky's infinity, intensity, its unfathomable depth, its eternal perpetuity. Your eyes are scotched to that scene. Hell yeah it has been a while since you've meet something that much attractive and irresistible; so you continue staring, you stare until your eyes get burnt by that force.  
It's dazzling.  
It really looks like a landscape behind a photoframe, always there when I turn back even if the colors are fading…  
…Ah?  
Wait! What the fuck am I talking about? That's nonsense! And just where the fuck was I?  
I opened widely my eyes and glared at the first thing I saw in front of me, which was the almost peaceful face of a sleeping Xanxus, black bangs hiding partially his closed eyes, trembling quietly as an inaudible breathe was softly inhaled and exhaled all along with the motion of his broad shoulders.  
We were both naked and it seemed like I had been resting my head for the last hours on his folded arm... That was the first time I saw Xanxus' bare tanned skin. His whole body was streaked with countless scars, all, as on his face, a bit darker than the skin they were marking. 'They look like scalds. A car explosion, chissà. By the way is that saliva trail on the bastard's arm mine? How can I be so childish …' so I was pondering until…  
'The fuck?' I bewildered inside. 'The fuck? The fuck? The fuck? That kind of situation, doesn't it seem like…'  
I rose from my nest and looked down on the sleeping raven.  
'Anyway what the hell is that fucktwit doing in my… in my… Voooi!' I finally screamed.  
I wasn't in my room, nor in any of Bartali's mansion's. It was a very wide one, with a laid floor covered by huge carpets and walls by wallpapers, the whole lot in a tendency of red and golden. The letto a baldacchino was the same: large dark red curtains were hanging from the ceiling, but that morning they were drawn so I could contemplate the entire bedroom in one gawk. It was already noon. I didn't have to watch at the clock to guess that: a gigantic glass door was opening to the outside and was giving a sight – from at least the first floor – to what looked like a private beach, a fancy, deserted and limitless sandbank, just like on those shitty postcards, the type you'll never get there unless being some kind of VIP son of a bitch, thus forget about bringing mommy, daddy, sis, bros and granny. The sound of waves flapping against boulders, the seagull's cries were coming from outside.  
'Stop being so noisy this early, trash…' Xanxus grunted, still half-sleeping.  
I nearly slapped that fucktard up.  
'Vooi, you fucking asshole, wake your shitty ass up! It ain't morning anymore, and since long ago.' The bastard's disdain for other people's troubles really made me out of myself. Watching him sleep so quietly was the last straw. I glared. 'Where the fuck did you bring me to? And just how have you done it without me knowing it? That place… Don't tell me… Don't tell me… Vooooi! Wake up! How did yesterday's party end like… this…? I mean, I don't clearly remember what happened back then… That was… Yes, I can recall it! I drank a bit too much so I went out to take some air… So I was outside and… and I think I fell asleep…Wake up I said! I fell asleep and… Shit I don't remember well. But hell would I do… would I do… would I have… with you… Holy fuck! I swear dear God if you've done anything to me when I was unconscious, I'll rip the hell out of you! ... Vooi, Xanxus! ...'  
'Piece of trash, I said you were fucking noisy…' Xanxus demanded while rising from his place. He took a grip of my hair then grabbed swiftly at my shoulders and pinned me down in the sheets again.  
'Voooi! It hurts! ... Mmph!'  
The raven pressed our lips together, harshly, ruthlessly, savagely. That was Xanxus. A fucking spoiled brat who always gets what he wants. Well, yeah, a brat with some skills which, with no fail, always succeeded in leaving my mind freed from all thoughts when they were applied.  
And my body simply couldn't say no to that travelling afrodisiaco called Xanxus.  
He was bending between my thighs, all his weight crushing me down. Our tongues intertwined and started massaging, tasting, ravishing each other. My arms were already locked on the raven's back, as I was feeling Xanxus' burning hands wandering everywhere on my naked flesh.  
'Mmm… Xanxus…'  
Teeth clashing, lips bruised, skin still marked by the previous day's ministrations, the man above me attacking and consuming my body, his hands keeping on stroking my hair or grazing my legs, parting them, lifting my waist up and sliding on my thighs. A shudder went through my body. Fuck. Did that asshole really have some trick to stir me up every time he touched me? Or was I getting used to his contact?  
Xanxus invaded my mouth. Feeling his appendage filling the wet cavern was still provoking a weird sensation. It was just that when Xanxus was doing something, he was always doing it with his entire strength and his entire wrath, and he possessed both to satiety. I had an impediment in breathing; my vision was blurred enough for me to take only in the raven's dark locks piling up in front of my eyes, hiding his stunningly piercing reddish gaze.  
He deepened the kiss.  
It left me unable to reason anymore. I knew where my brain's blood was pouring down; I didn't really give a damn at that moment. What only interested me was where Xanxus was lingering his hands: first they had been slowly downing from my shoulders to my chest, and then finally they lazily laid down on my ass. I jolted forward, breaking the kiss.  
'Ah! Aan…' An irregular pant was going out from my parted lips.  
Xanxus smirked.  
'Look who was bitching so much about me fucking him. Now you're just moaning like a natural-born whore and whining for more… Yet, last night you were so drunk I didn't have the delight of hearing more of your mewling.' Xanxus licked at my neck and rubbed at my buttock.  
That fucking feccia! Whether he was totally oblivious of my trouble to subdue so easily to someone I've just met, whether he was aware of that fact, and in spite of that, instead of shutting his fucking mouth up and fucking doing what he was up to, I had to hear him mocking at me.  
Goddamn piece of junk.  
I bit hard on his lower lip. Xanxus swore and drew himself up, a shady glare glowing from his eyes.  
'Puttana' he said threateningly 'what was that for?'  
Xanxus was angrily staring at me, but I gave him a fierce look of the same level. Both of us were sitting up in the bed.  
'Voooi. I should be the one asking that; just tell me why the hell I should let you doing as you want. Right now you're no different from that other asshole. I don't mean of becoming a fucking puppet for both of you.'  
Xanxus groaned and brushed his bangs back.  
'I thought I've already made clear you were only mine and nobody else's; of course I don't share. If you've got a problem with that, deal with it.'  
'Fuck you! That's what I'm talking about! You bring me to some place I don't even know when I was completely dead to the world, you call me a whore again and you start fooling around with me as if I was your fucking pet. You selfish bastard, do you think I'm just some other slut of yours? Vooi, if you need quick screws that badly, go find a hooker and leave me alone already.'  
I tried to get up but a felt something tugging at my hair, pulling me back to the bed. I sat down.  
'Vooi. What? You still want something from me?'  
Was I being too much docile? Who cares?  
'I didn't say you could leave trash.'  
'Huh? Sorry but you don't have your word to say about it. Let me go.'  
'Do you even know where you are?'  
'Che. Feel free to enlighten me about this or shut up and die.'  
'You're noisy, shark trash. And I won't tell anything. Just fuck off.' He said bossily while lying down. As a minimum he set my hair free; I took advantage of it and brought it back to me.  
Okay… We were back to immaturo and egoistico Xanxus. Great. I sighed.  
'Then die. I'm leaving.'  
'How?'  
'With the same way you hauled me here.'  
'Naked?'  
'Vooi. I'll have my clothes back, bastard.'  
'You mean that frilly dress? I'm not against it.'  
Fuck. I forgot about that.  
'Er… Well… How about you lend me some…'  
'Don't wanna.'  
'You animal!'  
The raven haired yawned and began playing with the tip of my hair.  
'So you're going back to your master? You really are his bitch, happy with having that lame ass fucking and bothering you out when he's in the doldrums. You surely were a dog or shit like that in your previous life.'  
'Have you heard yourself speaking? Seems like you were talking about yourself, earlier.'  
'Shut up.' He paused. 'I'm hungry.'  
'So what?'  
'Go fetch something for me to eat. Carne.'  
'And where the heck am I supposed to find some? This is your house! Plus I'm undressed… Vooi. Fuck it! I'm not your servant; if you're hungry, find something for yourself!'  
'Carne. The cooks are downstairs. If you don't I'll fucking kill you.' He said and went back sleeping.  
'Are you kidding me?' I yelled. 'Are you fucking kidding me?'  
A vase crashed on my head.  
'Carne. Shark. Now.'  
I was back ten minutes later with a still steaming enormous bistecca. The first thing I saw when I came in Xanxus' room was a glass smashing into my head. There still was some brandy in it.  
'Voooooooi, bastard! When people are getting food for you! …'  
'You're fucking late.'  
How couldn't I?  
I ended up finding a black dressing-gown in Xanxus' personal bathroom. It took me fucking hours to find the kitchen, but I didn't notice it because I was almost running throughout the house. Shit! When did I officially become that scum's slave? Fuck it! Fuck it! Fuck it! And the face the cook showed when I talked to him! Something like a 'so-you're-the-young-master's-newest-one'. Screw them all! None of those fucking cooks answered when I asked where we were, they just continued what they were doing before I was there. And back to the bedroom all the reward I got was some shitty brandy dripping in my hair!  
'And what if I am? It's not like I am a regular visitor, and 'downstairs' isn't enough for a precision! Raah forget it! I don't give a flying shit about.' I said while almost throwing the dish to Xanxus. 'So, you're finally willing to send me back to my lame ass of a boss?'  
'I won't.' Xanxus, still in the bed, was eating greedily his steak. A bit too greedily.  
'Che! I'm not yearning for doling out for the rest of the day. Who do you think I am? Your babysitter? Sorry but contrary to you, I'm a grown-up adult with a pile of work waiting for me on my desk. I don't have fucking time to play with you.' I sat on the border, turning my back to the raven haired man. Excepted Xanxus' morning rudeness, it was a relatively calm day, mostly a morning I didn't wake up next to Andrea; I didn't want anyone to jeopardize it.  
'You're staying here. I don't like having my properties strolling everywhere. Just forget about that Bartali looser. Why don't you serve me instead? Booze, shark.'  
'Fuck off! If you need so much alcohol, then start stopping throwing it all to me!'  
'Stop whining, shark trash. This time tequila.'  
'Voooi!'  
Hell I was tired of it, and so I totally forgot I hadn't eaten anything since the previous day.  
'Hurry up.'  
'Get lost!'  
'Huh? I didn't hear clearly. You just said you wanted to go back to that Bartali shithead, and walking all the way naked from tip to toe, didn't you?'  
'… Shit. I got it.'  
Same sprint as earlier, but that time, with a bottle of tequila in my mechanical hand.  
Again, a glass of wine hitting my head back to the bedroom.  
Asshole. Sometimes I just want to slap him. Nah, that's a lie. No, not sometimes; all the time.  
Few times went by like this: Xanxus and I arguing for stupid things, and tequila swallowed like orange juice ('Voi, stop drinking that much. You'll die of liver failure.' – 'Who did ask for your advice, you piece of shit?').  
'So, now?' I watched outside. I could guess it was toward 3:00 pm. 'Voi, Xanxus. I mean it I really have to go back home.'  
Xanxus' eyes darkened. He had finished his gigantic bistecca some time ago, and was applying himself in emptying his booze. He took one, two gulps, then stayed silenced a few time.  
'Or else what? You'll get raped? Did that shitface chastise you so severely that you're perfectly unable to think about anything else but him, even when he's away?' Xanxus mocked.  
I was stunned by what he said. I knew Xanxus was a selfish bastard – he was as a self-centered person as he was an alcoholic – yet until now he hadn't say anything, well, especially cutting toward me, and we were quarrelling almost every minute since our meeting. So why so suddenly?  
'Voi. Quit it already.' My voice quavered.  
Something was weird. Something was truly weird. Actually it wasn't the things he said, rather the way he said them which got me uncomfortable. I've never expected compassion from Xanxus, nor compassion, nor gentleness; I didn't need those. Then again what was that stinging sensation in my chest?  
'It must have been hard on you. You don't look like the submissive type. Did it hurt? Did you cry? I'm sure your screams are as delightful as your mouth.' Xanxus came closer and grabbed painfully at my hair.  
'Shut up I said.'  
Stop this. Stop this.  
That really is what I don't want you to talk about.  
'Or I'm wrong… So you liked it? That option wouldn't be amazing. Like some time before, when we were kissing, you were responding so well; your body are practically used to a man's touch. I even wonder if a woman still can satisfy you now… At any rate I said you're mine, didn't I?...'  
With one hand, Xanxus gripped at the gown's knot.  
Ah. What did I feel back then? A mixture of anger, anger from my wounded pride, anger from my wounded body; but also – strange thing – scraps of disappointment, insoddisfazione.  
'Quit on choosing for other people's life!' I screamed to him and glared, very seriously. It was getting too far. That subject was a minefield I didn't want to cross, most of all with that Xanxus bastard. 'Do you think the world is revolving around of you only? You're just a shitty spoiled brat, talking as if you knew anything … All you've done was dragging me here and fucking upsetting me… Have you the slightest idea of how much I've become tired of all of this? You, Andrea, or any other retard in this scum-like world… Fed up of that asshole. I feel disgusted and wretched about what he has done of me… I hate it! No matter how I see it, I can't help but loathing at it! And still, you…'  
'Trash. You're just some piece of pathetic shark. If you don't like it that much then quit.'  
What sort of elementary schoolboy's reasoning was that?  
'Shut the hell up! You don't know what you're talking about! That's why I say you're just a fucking brat. Families aren't things you can leave because you feel like it; the Bartalis aren't people I can drop like this, for some feeble reason. How could you even understand it? …'  
'You're the one who doesn't understand anything…'  
Xanxus pulled my head even closer, but he did it so hard I thought he would scalp me.  
'I'm not talking about family or shit. I could care less about all those good-for-nothing idiots. What I'm talking about is you. This is because it's you, Squalo, what I want and what I deserve to have; and this ain't something I'd ask some other scum for.'  
He still was clenching at my head, but gradually released his grip.  
Awkward silence.  
'Vooi. Don't fucking decide by yourself.' I said at last. Then, as if I had thought about something particularly amusing, I grinned at Xanxus, my trademark ferric grin.  
'I won't go cheap.'  
   
Chapter 8  
The beautiful silverette stared with empty eyes at the people dancing in front of them then yawned. They were standing outside of the palace, in the sandy front-yard, half-supported by slender shoulders shrouded by dark lace, contrasting with the white of their dress, at the corner of two walls. The place was lighted up by a colorful garlands and its stillness was filled by music. The silver haired turned on their left. As a black veil was spread on their head, hiding completely their face, it was quite hard to say whether the beauty was watching at some point precisely or at the whole assembly in general; though it would have been difficult to peek at only one individual within all the frilly people dressing, for the great part, in weird old outfits, and whirling in a carola all along with the frantic sound, every one holding every one's hand, moving in single file. The crowd's rhythm was causing the light to streak on the silverette's pallid skin.  
At the opposite side was walking leisurely a tall, di bell'aspetto, black haired man with ruby eyes dimmed by anger and impatience, a murderous aura glowing from him causing the rest of the people to move away. He was wearing a dress coat, and piuma rosso toning with his eyes, dangling at the nape of his neck, were waving in the wind. It seemed he was looking for someone in the crowd, his dangerous eyes gaping randomly at each face he met, which he forgot as soon as he saw it wasn't the one he was looking for. However after some time a vulgar chick tried to hit on him. She literally threw herself in the raven's arms and started chatting about things the other man didn't give a damn. Luckily the bothering didn't last for long since the tanned man whispered something hastily at the woman. The bimbo shuddered from top to bottom and, visage contorted with fear, ran away from the man. He then sneered and resumed his searching, irritation rising acutely.  
In front of him, the silver head gave the impression of finally finding what they were searching for, so was the raven. At that moment both of them shared a glance. The tanned man smirked and beckoned at the silverette before crossing the crowd with giant strides, along his side of the yard, never leaving it. His companion followed him, them too staying on their side of the courtyard; their pace matched the raven's.  
\----  
We were slowly heading to a spot much less congested. As we strode, our pace got quicker, our face expressing the predator's thirst. It was like we were only waiting which one of us would be the first to eat the other, and which one would be the one eaten.  
At last we arrived at a dark area absolutely void of people; a high stone arch was isolating us from the party. Where we were all one could hear was formless sounds echoing from the other side of the castle. I was the first in the place, Xanxus arrived almost immediately, his hand loosing his tie, an evil smirk on his lips. I returned the grin.  
'You really did it, trash.' Xanxus rapidly paced his way toward me. He squashed me on the next vigna-covered wall before ripping the veil down, unknotting the ponytail my hair were tied into, then stuck his lips on my right ear. 'I swear fucking God if you make me wait one more time like that I'll fucking skin you alive.'  
Feeling Xanxus' hot breath on my lobe made me shiver. That closeness was no good. I could already sense a tent forming in the raven's pants.  
'Vooi. I've made you quite horny, it seems.' Foolishly, I continued infuriating the man. I knew that was bad, really bad; but I couldn't resist that wrathful air Xanxus was putting.  
As a result the angry man bit hard on my neck. I whined.  
That was the only thing I acknowledge about the bastard: his wrath was untainted and unblemished and fucking appealing, enough to let him taking over me like that. Though it was something I'll never admit to that Xanxus asshole. Or maybe someday, I thought. I didn't know and I didn't give a fuck. I still don't.  
'Your whines are like a sultry bitch's.' He said while, dawdling, he was sucking on my neck. 'You said you wouldn't go cheap. I hope for you that you're worth the outlay…'  
'Aan…' I whimpered when he finished marking the pale skin with a hickey.  
Ah. That was right, I said so. How silly. Sometimes I really wander about all the assurdità bursting out of my mouth. The problem is that I'm a man of honor. Once I gave my word, I would never ever take it back, upon my cut left hand. And, yes, that fact would sometimes cause me some trouble, quite like that day.  
Suddenly I quivered. On my thighs were sliding Xanxus' burning hands, all eager and all, and getting closer to my nearly hard shaft. In the end perhaps wasn't it the nicest idea to have him wait all that time long (although I merely left alone him for seven or eight hours).  
'Shit. Vorace bastardo.' I complained, but parted my legs wider, my hands gripping the vigna's gimlet proliferating at my back and Xanxus' slacky tie.  
'I take that as a compliment.'  
'Che. Why do I even bother…'  
But I do bother. I tilted my head aside, letting flow a river of silver hair on my nude shoulders. A pampino caressed my cheek. The black lace mostly was gone, my shoes gone, my mind gone.  
Oh how did things even turned like that?  
\--------  
Back few hours ago, at the Sicilia's holiday house, with a more fuming Xanxus and a more lucid me. An air of grouchy disbelief was pasted on the raven haired man's features.  
'Shitty piece of scum, I don't need you to play the hard to get. This is a fucking tedious game, especially for a whore like you.' Xanxus demanded, staring angrily at me. His back was resting on the bed's broad head and a sheet was draping his lower half.  
'Voooi. This ain't a fucking game, you fucktard. And I keep telling you I ain't your fucking whore!' I shouted at him.  
I spare you the rant and the torrent of verbal abuse which began due to the same subject as sooner.  
'That isn't the issue, trash.' Xanxus, calmer (at least more than me), finally cut it off. 'I bade you to leave the Bartali and to start fighting for me instead.'  
I involuntarily jolted backward, imperceptibly, and cast down my eyes. A trigger clicked in my head.  
'… And I told you I can't do that…'  
Dio if it didn't make Xanxus mad. I was perfectly positive it was the first time in his life someone was refusing him something.  
'And can I ask you why?' Xanxus propped his elbow on a folded knee, smirking, two fingers gripping firmly at my chin. 'You know, I indeed heard some chats about the late Bartali capo, and also about you being his most loyal man. You sure have made some ruckus all over Italia, years ago; I remember you creating bloodsheds everywhere you go (Xanxus' eyes lit gruesomely), some of your preys so bashed they were completely unrecognizable. But then the ol' man died, and you became the other lame ass' right-hand man. Now let me acquaint you with the reality: your loyalty for him, your unbreakable devotion, everything, this is nothing but shit and rubbish. That place is fucked up, doomed, a soon to be submerged vessel. Your family will be crushed by the end of the year, and all the rats which have smelt the wreck had already left the sinking ship, a long time ago. Fra breve ossa, sangue e cenere, all left will be that. There's nothing to do about it anymore, there's nothing you can do about it. So, Superbi Squalo, why are you still on the deck? And don't declaim the usual useless shit about faithfulness: the one whom you swore it is passed dead and is rotting peacefully in his grave, and the one you serve now is just a shitty annoying looser to you, isn't he? So make up your mind. Whether you stay there, like the sniveling underdog you've always been, and die for a ne'er-do-well scum, whether...'  
Again that weird sensation, a bit denser than before and slowly but surely increasing. I was listening, but without actually understanding what Xanxus was talking about. What was happening around me? Finally I could barely register anything, and at some point, my thoughts got blank. I don't want to listen to something I'm already aware of, something I'm already mournfully aware of. Mental defense by self-blocking of one's mind, or something like that. That was one of many things I learnt when I was a child, either that was when I still lived with my bloody parents or in the slum, I can't say. With time I succeeded doing it unconsciously, even when I didn't want to.  
Somehow – truth be said che idiota wouldn't notice something is going wrong when the one you're talking to isn't giving any response the next five minutes – somehow Xanxus became aware of my unnatural quietness and dilated pupils, though I don't know exactly when. All I know is that I perceived a dull sound which came from everywhere at the same time, repeatedly, confusedly. Someone was grabbing my limp arm, tightly… Well, back then that was what I could feel as far as I know, a general numbness all over my limbs, blurred vision, my respiration becoming low and laborious, senses all lost, cooling of my finger and toe tips, the muscles stiff and the brain off. This really was a troubling state, but at least it didn't happen on the battlefield.  
Yet that was until a felt welcomed warmth wrapping me. The presence in front of me was growing mightier, I could almost see it. The shadow was looming all over me, little by little waking me up from my deadness.  
Why did it end like that the first place? That was… because of something that bastard said that I didn't want to hear, a cruel, pitiless, inflexible truth … Fuck it. I realized it long ago; I only lived in denial until that day. Reality fucking hurts, Xanxus.  
I woke up nested into well-built tanned and scarred arms, my forehead hidden by a bare torso with the same completion, same as the hand stroking at my hair, and an odor of tequila, strong enough to make me vomit and that fucking heat I was too used to.  
'Voooi…' I muttered, half-conscious.  
'Shut it, idiot shark.'  
Xanxus' voice was serious, but it had lost its roughness, more or less.  
'Vooi, Xanxus, that's…'  
'Shut it I said.'  
I sighed and allowed myself to be nursed few more time. Until I was sufficiently awaken to be aware of the awkwardness of the situation.  
'…You reek of tequila. It makes me sick.' The sentence became louder by the end.  
For my performance I received a kick which threw me out of the bed, five feet away precisely. My head hit the floor with a loud 'thud' followed by a low 'Vooi' muffled by the red rug coating the floor. I was sprawled into an inelegant position, my face buried in the carpet and my ass up in the air (fucking gown betrayed me). Xanxus' leer was something I could immediately guess from behind. He stood up, I faced him angrily.  
'Are you fucking going nuts? ...' I began.  
'See you tonight, ugly bitch. Be sure of showing your stupid face up. If you don't I'll drag you by force.' Xanxus ordered while throwing at me a white shirt and black pants. 'Ora esci!'  
Everything happened so fast I didn't have enough time to call Xanxus names. I only stomped, mad, infuriated, and discomfited, at the same time putting on the too large clothes ('Are those Xanxus'?'), I stomped outside the room, then outside the house. It was only there that my graceful eloquence came back.  
'Vooooi you shitty piece of junk, go fuck yourself! Fucking bastard! Stupid asshole of a Xanxus! Go die thousands times and painfully! I don't want to see your fucking face anymore! Just get lost, it would be a relief for humankind, you scum-like shithead! ...'  
I continued my tirade without noticing a man dressed in black with dark sunglasses (ordinary height, ordinary features, the type you never see even when they bump into you) had tried for many times to draw my attention. After a while I finally heard the very soft 'Er… Signore… I'm here for…'. The incessant whispers were only an additional irritation for me.  
'Voooi. Fucker, you really have a death wish.' I hissed viciously to the man, turning toward him fierce eyes.  
He stiffened.  
'Ah!... I'm sorry to disturb you Signore… But the boss told me to give you a lift… If you please…' The tuxedo man was sweating, a large amount of it, and it wasn't that hot at all. I grimaced. 'Disgusting dead loss.' I thought.  
The chauffeur was showing me the way; I went behind him and entered into a black Porsche before putting the sneakers the man was presenting to me. The trip was quiet and monotonous, particularly on the back bench on which I was sitting. The sweating pig wasn't talking much, he only answered when I asked him where exactly was that place ('Si, Signore! We still are in Sicilia. Ha ha. So you were afraid padrone Xanxus brought you to another country? ...' – evil glare reflecting in the driving mirror. The chatterbox silenced), and whether it would take time to the Bartali's mansion ('Oh I think two-three hours… Not more.').  
We arrived at dusk. The car went across the manor's spacious blue garden. A so obnoxious sight. Indistinctly the wheels were squeaking on the gravels of the trail. I left the car in front of the house and went in. The residence was silent, un spettrale silenzio. I asked the first guard I saw were was the boss. 'In his office' he said, and simpering when he remarked the large clothes, added 'he's waiting for you.'  
I heaved a sigh, went upstairs and opened the first door on my right. Andrea's office was dived into darkness, cold and sinister. At the back of the room, next to the enormous desk, a leather chair was turned to the wide finestra, the one facing the front of the mansion. A fair-haired man was huddling in, motionless and as noiseless as the dead water; albeit I couldn't see its occupier's face I knew there was a precarious tension between us. 'He saw me coming…' I concluded.  
'Voooi, shitty boss. Did you need anything from me?' I yelled at the immobile from. It barely shifted in its place, but the movement could have been seen as a nodding, at least I took it as that.  
'Then I'm leaving.' I turned tail and exited. Once I was out I heard a clatter beyond the door. 'Humph!...' I kept straight on to my bedroom. 'A doomed fate, huh?' On my way I recalled Xanxus' words. 'In spite of that…' I was deep in my thoughts when I came in my room. Tired and hungry I fell down on my bed, face first, so I didn't notice the large box laying there before it made contact with my head.  
'Voooooi. Who the hell did put this shit here?...' I yanked at the card attached to it I read the note. 'What…?'  
"Wear it, scum." was written.  
   
Chapter 9  
The moon was the only witness of their nocturnal encounters.  
\----  
Far from us was resonating an indistinct tune of tarantella, the sounds of flutes and tambourines drumming in my ears. Shadows of the laughing and dancing couples were spinning under the flying buttresses. The party was getting hot.  
'Ah!'  
Xanxus flipped me violently so that I was facing the wall, face almost buried in the newly emerged leaves. A strong scent of green grapes still unripe was surrounding me, making me lightheaded. I indolently gripped the climbing creepers.  
'You're not fighting me anymore. Spossato?' The raven haired muttered against my shaking back, kissing lightly at the hair in his way. Slowly he ghosted dark hands on my hips.  
'Do I give you that impression?' I grinned faintly, ego divided between lust and unease. 'I can leave you here at once, you know, if it annoys you… Ngh!'  
Rough fingers put a hem on my dress, rolling them up enough to show my lacey-trapped bottom, before making their way between my cheeks. Xanxus smirked.  
'Like hell I would. Your fucking playtime ends here, trash.' He said whilst biting on my neck. How fucking frustrating.  
'Shit. No need for preparation, fuck me already.' Crap. Why did he have to be so damn slow?  
'Who's getting impatient now? I'll have you moan my name the loudest you can, shark…'  
'Ah-Aaan… Xanxus!' I screamed when the tanned man buried himself up to the hilt, yanking my hair in the process. Fuck. I was so full, the cock in my ass stretching me to no hell. That bastard didn't even have the civility to remove the panties; he only made his way by stretching the string and thrust as it was. My insides were burning with pain, but also with another kind of sensation, molto piacevole. I grabbed harder at the gimlets and arched my hips to take Xanxus as deep as I could to intensify the impression.  
I was steadily losing it, but I supposed I wasn't the one.  
'… Hey, Squalo…' Both of us were sweating; my back was supporting the brunette's well-built torso, I was caught amid his arms – one clawing at my bare chest, another resting on the wall. 'You're fucking tight and hot down there…' Xanxus pulled me toward his dick, forcing me to suck all of it, his grip already leaving tiny bruises on the tender flesh of my buttock. He stopped when he felt he couldn't go deeper. 'E umido.'  
I blushed.  
'Voi. Shut it. This is enough embarrassing like this.'  
That Xanxus asshole didn't give me time to accustom to his length. Without warning, he bucked his hips and thrust his member forward wildly, frenetically. Once more I cried. He started pulling in and out of the smooth hole, again and again, his pace quick and brutal all together. I could barely put coherent thought as my ass was being pounded without mercy. Everything coming out from my mouth was monosyllables and whimpers; things like 'Xanxus…Aaa! Ah… Not so… Yaa! Mmh…' My moaning was getting louder with each thrust. At first the sensation of his large cock moving so fast and so violently in me was truly painful, so much that beads of tears were showing up in my eyes. Yet at the same time something else, like an electric current, vague but certainly existing, was crossing my body, initiating itself in my lower-half, then bit by bit igniting me; Xanxus' heavy breath on my skin did nothing to help it. However it still was a faint feeling only irritating me and making me want for more.  
Our bodies were moving in unison. I toned the movement of my waist with Xanxus' thrusts; every time he shoved his hot appendage deep in my ass, I pushed back, bending my back enough to facilitate his moves, feeling the fullness in me, and whined each time I felt that electrifying sensation stirring me up.  
'Trash… You're here because you agreed… Nnh... Aren't you?'  
'Ah?' I couldn't believe it! Even at a time like that he was talking about that. Sorry man, but I really can't give you a decent answer when you're fucking the hell out of me. 'Ah!... Mm… Voi. Vaffanculo!'  
Xanxus turned my face to meet his, then kissed me. I wasn't able to breathe anymore: nevertheless the kiss was so goddamn good, each tongue struggling for dominance; it took away all thoughts of kick the man's ass away. My dick jolted from the thrill. When the kiss ended I was breathless and dizzy, face flushed and legs weak. Xanxus paused his ramming and kept me up with his arms.  
'Our agreement, you trash. Don't dare say you've forgotten it.'  
'Vooi, I didn't. But can't you finish what you've started before discussing serious questions?'  
He licked hastily at my ear.  
'For me they aren't.' Xanxus showed that royally disdainful face again and frowned, deepening the wrinkle between his eyebrows. 'You're just one among many longings. So to speak, you don't mean anything to me; if truly you chose to decline my offer, I'll have no hesitation in exterminating you and scattering your guts, right now, in front of the guests and in front of God.'  
Stupid.  
'Scum.' I tried to look back the more I could (having Xanxus' thick member deep in my ass wasn't allowing me to move as I wanted), and pointed at the furrow with a gloved finger. 'Do you think I'd be here if I didn't know that, you dumbass bastard? I've better things to do than losing my time with dorks… Aan!' I closed my eyes. Accidentally I brushed my hard and leaking shaft against the leaves; it shuddered in response. 'Voi, Xanxus…' I almost pleaded.  
Said asshole grinned devilishly. He then grasped even harder at my ass, modified slightly his position, before entering me with more force than earlier.  
'Xanxus! Ah… Aan! There… There it feels good…' I yelled when I felt Xanxus' cock hitting dead on a bundle of nerves. The thrusts continued, always harsh and unpredictable. The pain accompanying them was welcomed as I reared myself every time I felt the raven's haired filling me up, withdrawing and then filling me again. Dio it felt good; so good it didn't matter to me anymore that my voice got too loud and could be heard from strangers.  
On the contrary I moaned louder. Like hell would I say no to that godly addictive pleasure. Fuck decency, I needed more, I wanted more, shit I would cry for more.  
'I-iya! Mmm … Xanxus …Aan!' I moaned, my blood boiling with sheer yearning 'Don't… Ah!... hold back as if… Ow… As if I was… your fucking girlfriend.' What the fuck exactly was that? Blood really wasn't irrigating my brains anymore, for me to talk shit like that. Oh screw it.  
'Hee? You wish for more, trash?' Xanxus' husky voice whispered in my ears. 'So I'm giving it to you.'  
Cocky bastard.  
Xanxus speeded his pace, still hitting right on that spot over and over again. My hole was incredibly slicky, licking with the raven's precum and mine.  
'Remember that clearly, shark and never forget it.' He grunted whilst pounding in me. 'Sei mio. Tutti voi è mio. I'm not going to cede you to anybody else. I'll burn to death any fool approaching you too friendly.'  
Did my brain ever process what he was saying?  
'Mnn… M-More! Harder! …Ah! Xanxus! Harder! Ngh!...' All I could do was panting, whining and/or screaming from the pleasure his large cock was giving me, leaning completely against the wall. 'Just take it… Aaan!... Take it, break it… E-Everything… You can have everything of… me… That's why… Ah! That's why… Mmh! Faster!'  
Shit I was fucking close, all disgusting shame and decency abandoned. Each thrust was drawing me nearer to my climax.  
But again karma is a bitch.  
'Hey! Do you think we're safe here?' A feminine voice asked near the gate. 'Mi pare di si.' A masculine voice answered. 'Your father is on the other side of the castle, isn't he?'  
Xanxus placed one hand on my mouth, muting my whimpering. Luckily they didn't see us, too preoccupied with their own little life.  
'… He?' I wasn't aware of the presence behind us. That was the first time in my life I entirely let my guard down (excepted last fucking night I was so fucking drunk). I finally discerned a couple of lovey-dovey youngsters pressing each other against the stone entry, chit-chatting frivolously like… Ah! Who cares? I needed release, dammit! I clasped my hands on the vine. I very sincerely wanted to cut them in pieces and let the lady's daddy find her dead body in a bloodstained dark room, a scene worthy of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre.  
Without an ounce of anxiety, the tanned man looked back at the duo, then turned back to me, a mischievous grin plastered on his thin lips. He latched onto my neck and began to suck and lick with fever.  
'S-shit… Xanxus, stop it….' Truly does that bastard have some brain or sort of?  
My words went to deaf ears. Instead he found it actually clever to continue his previous ministrations… The scum-like shithead really shoved himself in me once more, pulled out and repeated the same actions, my wetness helping him a lot.  
'Nmh!' I pressed my left hand on my mouth in an almost useless attempt of muting those shameful sounds. Something was building up in my stomach.  
Xanxus didn't give a shit about the bothering and kept entering me relentlessly. The good news was that, like it was, I was going to come in few seconds. The bad one was that those shitty lovebirds were going to find us out.  
'Mmph! Fuck… Xanxus… Comin'… I'm… Ngh!'  
And finally… Thank goodness! The stupid brats disappeared somewhere I didn't give a damn about. I freed my mouth and let out all those sweet sounds Xanxus was so longing for.  
'Aaah…!'  
White fluid splashed on my abdomen, dirtying the rest of tissue still covering it, and even on the vine's leaves. As I came, Xanxus kept hitting my prostate, prolonging the orgasm. Fuck that was great.  
At long last I was gradually going limp, shaky and panting, but the raven didn't pull out yet.  
'Is that all, shark trash?' He sneered. 'Quite fast.'  
Aaa? Fast? Are you kidding me? You've ripped the life out of me and that's the only thing you can say? You evil! So I wanted to shout at the bastard, but the lack of air in my lungs didn't allow me to. I just stared angrily at Xanxus, face flushed and eyes teary.  
'You look like a drenched cat. Wanna scratch my face? Or feel like chomp siccità pesce?'  
Fucking noisy. The tanned man's arousal was still throbbing in my ass, no intent of settling down.  
'Voooi. Aren't ya done yet? Take it out.'  
He leered at me. 'No del tutto. There's still some way to go before goal.'  
Xanxus watched here and there as if he wanted to located himself. Somehow he found what he seemed to look for. With no warn the raven released me (I didn't notice I was supporting myself on his arms) and pulled out, shaft still hard bouncing at each step, and Xanxus didn't take the trouble of zipping his pants. He swiftly grabbed at my shoulders and dragged me to a darker corner. I could barely see more than two inches away, so I only let the raven haired lead my way, cursing silently at the Vongola heir's impatience. The man was indeed walking quickly, as if he didn't had a fully straight boner in his pants. Hell, I even could say he was enjoying himself – although for a normal human being his eyes were much more like a serial killer's ones (or rather a perv). My shaking legs were following him, so-so, until we arrived in front of a closed door. Xanxus kicked it open and pushed me inside, ripping the rest of my garments and his own jacket, before violently throwing me into velluto divano. The room was dark, only lit up by a fire-place's brightness. Left aside the hearth and the divan, only a mat with stupidly long bristle was noticeable in the tiny space. Limbs and hair were flinging everywhere on the velvet, and their owner shouting incongruities to their persecutor, who was trapping the writhing mess beneath him.  
'Shitty piece of junk! I'm tired of being treated like this! Why do you always…' Xanxus silenced me by crushing his lips on mine. '… Mmph. Again with that, fucking bastard… Nnn!... Always so selfishly…. Aan…'  
A rough hand squeezed rudely at my limp member.  
'You're bitching too much. Can't you stay quiet for awhile?... Well, if it's this kind of whining (brutal pump – 'Aa-Ah!') I won't say no-.' Xanxus kept pumping my shaft, roughly, hurriedly. It didn't take time to have me hard again, and bucking my hips with each grasp of the large hand. At some time he got bored of playing with me, he then lift my waist as high as he could – enough for me to have a plenty sight of my moist lower-half – and almost folding my body in two. The tanned man hooked my left leg at the divano's back and the other high in the air for his delight. And delight he got as I saw him gaze with concupiscence on the reddish sphincter. 'What do we have here?…'  
The puckered ring of muscles was twitching and licking. It was overflowing with the dark man's semen, but also with the outcome of my last orgasm. Xanxus' head moved toward my hips, closer and closer, and ended up so near I could feel his breath on my inner thigh's skin.  
'Che… Wha-what are you doing?...' Xanxus didn't answer. Instead he lustfully placed butterfly kisses at the junction of my hips and my thigh. 'Mn... Ah! That… tickles…' I whispered when I felt spiky hair prickling me. It made my toes curled.  
'You're such a cheap whore, easy to hoax and effortlessly turned on. With the exception of your stubbornness and your idiocy.' Xanxus hummed. His handsome features were bathed in the warmth yet feeble glow spilling from the fire-place.  
He shoved his middle finger into my still sore but wet entrance, up to the joint. It was moving in, stretching and massaging my insides. I arched and squirmed as the finger twisted, sensually letting out a pleasured moan or yelp at every prod, at the same time unclenching and clenching the man's finger which only roused him more.  
'Nn! Xanxus…' I begged. Xanxus grunted. And pushed in his red organ; but in contrast to sooner's ministrations, he did it slowly and unhurriedly. The head went in and poked the hole, provoking it, then took it out before reiterating the actions. I let a groan of frustration. What was that? That kind of patience really amazed me from a man like Xanxus, the man always so hotheaded and impulsive. 'The fuck… Quit the teasing and put it in…'  
'Humph! Donnaccia.'  
He thrust deeper, entering inch by inch. Hot and throbbing. I stared at the hard appendage stretching my entrance, sinking with no effort as my inner muscles sucked it greedily, twitching.  
I nipped my lips playfully. 'You like what you see?' Xanxus said halfway as he saw me gawking voluptuously at the sultry sight of him sheathing his thick erection into my tight hole. I panted, unable to speak a word. The raven propelled himself a bit faster, till he fully got in. Shit. With that pose, he went deep up my ass. I gasped. One more time Xanxus drove wildly in me, earning at each time screams of pleasure from the squirming form below him. My waist undulated every time Xanxus inserted his shaft profoundly in me, my body flexing to its forms and my dick bouncing with every snap. The slapping of skin resounded, altogether with my shouted moans, Xanxus' low grunts and the creaks of the divan, between the room's walls; a mixture of scents – scent of sweat, scent of musk, scent of sex, intoxicating – was lingering in the air.  
After some time I was nearing my climax for the second time in the night. My dick was hard and licking. Brief trails of cum were pouring from the small slit, teeming down on me, but because of my awkward position, pelvis still indecently heightened higher than my head, the flow of white liquid gushed right on my face, staining my cheeks and hair, almost dropping in my opened mouth. Nevertheless the sight actually amused the raven. He did nothing to remedy to it. Xanxus' fucking resistance be damned. Instead he thrust harder, with a more erratic pace than before. I could care less about anything but Xanxus' toughness, my exhausted body, my limits reached and almost broken and my complete incapacity of doing nothing but yank at the cushions in my back and scream in pleasure as the raven drove dead on my prostate. So near… With one hand I reached at my left nipple and started pinching it. The bastard sure had a great view at the moment.  
'Aan! Xanxus!…' At the pitch of my voice, he finally guessed I was near my orgasm. He pounded a lot more forcefully, only few pushes, before we came together, hard, the tanned man in my ass, filling it up to the brim, and me directly on my face, hot semen blurring my outlook and jamming my crying mouth. It was salty and twisted.  
Both of us were breathing heavily. Xanxus was propping on his elbows, hips fenced in my thighs and face plunged in the silver hair covering my shoulders. I lazily wiped off all the seed on my face.  
For two minutes we didn't say anything. The aftermaths of the orgasm still running all over my body, I stayed like that, lying quietly under the tanned man. I didn't want to put an end to that semblance of peace. I didn't care nor about Xanxus unsheathing his sagging member from me nor about the said man's cum pouring on my ass and thighs.  
'Hey, trash.' Xanxus was the first to break the silence.  
'Whaat?' was the indolent answer.  
'Are you asleep yet?'  
'Idiot. If I were sleeping would I have answered?' I mused before something tilted in my head. 'Voi. You know that place, don't you?'  
An annoyed grunt was my feedback, then 'You stupid shark. This castle is Vongola's. We are the one always organizing those shitty parties every year. Is it only now you realize it?'  
Silence again.  
'Hey, trash?' For the second time.  
'Whaat again?'  
Xanxus' back rose so that he could plainly face at my questioning face. 'Do you love me?'  
The heck?  
I sighed with exasperation. 'Stop asking such stupid questions, you dork.' With the strength remaining in my arms, I tugged his head down to my level. 'Of course I do hate you.' Then brushed my lips against his. Like a kind of seal for our agreement.  
\---------  
One hour later, Xanxus was pounding in me, yet again. I didn't remember how many times he had made me come, brains only filled with bliss. We were down on the floor, me on all fours, cheeks pressed against the carpet where a trail of saliva was dripping from my lips, and ass excessively far above the ground being hammered by the raven.  
Until very late in the night shameful outrageous didn't stop rising from that tiny room lost in the labyrinth of the Vongola's fortress.  
\--------  
The morning was cold. Vaporous mist was covering the ground as a delicate wind, almost imperceptible, was making the old tree's leaves tremble. Muffled up in a wool scarf and a thick coat, I was walking slowly between seamed graves, leather gloved hand clenching at a bunch of white flowers and the noise from my boots' soles reflecting indefinitely in the void. Catania's cimitero was nothing refined and luxurious. It was a simple, humble and sober place, tombs sowed along the narrow road I was following. Gravestones weren't luxurious; on the contrary they were so ordinary one would think they were ashamed of the dead. However the place was quiet (I was astonished to see there was no burial at all, in spite of the early morning), quiet and distant from the world (though the cimitero was in the town center). I think that precisely was the reasons why the late Bartali boss chose that place for him to be buried in. And that day was the first time I was paying a visit to him since the funeral ceremony – almost three years earlier; I almost forgot where was the ol'geezer's grave.  
I finally spotted out a voluminous tuff of blond hair on short and skinny legs. Ah. La figlia. I think she was about twelve years old back then. She quite changed for the last years, ugly glassy eyes replaced by sharper and trickier ones, face more perspicacious, smarter: she was turning into a woman version of Andrea. Andrea (karma is a bitch) who was standing two steps away from the young woman, his own hair merging with his little sister's.  
'So, fratello mio, take care of yourself, okay?' a fluted voice chanted. 'I hope I can talk to you again. You really are a funny one!'  
The fair-haired girl ran into my direction. I lost her trace a second later.  
'You shouldn't harass little girls. That's illegal.' I said whilst deposing the flowers in front of the stone. A bunch of red giacinto was already there.  
'I wasn't.' Andrea was smiling, but his voice was low and jerky. That was unlike him. 'She was more or less hitting on me.' We stayed quiet for some time, with for company nothing but the early coldness and the silence. At long last the blond passed a hand through his curly locks and sighed. 'Then, Squalo. You're going to dump me?'  
'Aa.'  
I wasn't there for that reason, but I didn't matter the drift of the conversation. Andrea's face contorted at my answer. Was what I saw sadness? 'Eternal fucker.' I whispered with incontinence.  
'You're leaving me.'  
'Aa.'  
'Can you say goodbye?'  
'Addio.' I turned back. I was on the point of turning the same corner as the girl when the blond hailed me.  
'Squalo? You've forgot something.' He bent forward and gathered his own bunch. I received a dull look. His eyes were icy, stiff. 'Those giacinto, they are for you.'  
Bang! A bullet lodged itself into my stomach.  
'Gah!' My guts were burning with pain. I kneeled down and pressed my hand against the bleeding wound. Fuck. Where did it come from? I looked back to see a moving shadow hiding behind a gravestone; and it wasn't the only one… Eight, ten… No, fifteen. Holy shit, others were coming too. Since when did they know about me coming there? Nobody was supposed to know it, goddamn! Oh! Fuck it! I just had to get out from that wasp's nest, and get out quickly…  
Bang! Bang! One in my right shoulder, one in my thigh.  
'Dear, deaaar Squalo.' Andrea was jubilating, features torn by ecstasy, his unsteady legs whirling him on the spot. 'This is no, no, no good! You're mean, you're so… Though I loved you… Really. But now it's dead! Dead! Dead! Like you, after little time.' The poor boy was going delirious. 'Hey?!... You see it? You can see it? Of course, you can… Aa-ah but not for so long… Your right eye is next… Giuseppe!'  
I barely dodged the next shot, which passed one inch from my head. Bleeding and wounded, I jumped aside and rolled with the speed of sound behind a tombstone. The place was still occupied with one of Andrea's man but I easily got rid of him, kicked him dead on the solar plexus. I caught the 9mm Beretta the man had dropped and, twisting his wrist in his back, used him as a shield before shooting at the nearest opponents. I'm not used to guns. They are noisy and always need reloading. Nonetheless I didn't have many options at that time and kept on decimating my fellow creatures.  
The bullets wedged in my muscles were making my projection slow and painful, yet I was able to easily eradicate ten or so of the flunkeys. Some didn't even make a movement while I was close enough to fire point blank at them. Low-life junkies. Keeping the bleeding cadaver in front of me, I forced my way in the mess, fog helping greatly, gunned at anyone near enough for me to slay, throwing away unloaded guns and stealing those of the lackeys I had killed. The peaceful graveyard had become a field of scores settling for Mafiosi.  
The first minutes I was doing great, killing everybody getting in my way, a bloodshed trailing my pace. But after some time, my adversaries' actions became a bit weird. Twenty five of them were already lying down in a mixture of fresh mud and hot blood. I myself was bleeding deadly, but still I was okay, resting back at another stone, puffing and sweating. My previously white scarf had been transformed into bloody bandages for my wounds. I wasn't worried. I had been in situations worse than that, I always came back victorious. However that time was different. Yes, it was because those fucktards did know all of my strategies. Escaping had become a pretty itchy issue.  
'Vooooi. Stupid Andrea. Not very clever from you to lure me into that shit of a trap!' Primo, you have to cut the head, the rest of the body will go after. Yet the said head was clever enough not to retort, keeping his position unknown to me. Crap. So I had to cut all the giant's limbs off before attaining the head, huh? Would I have enough time? I pondered, watching at the dirtied tissues. And I was feeling dizzy from the loss of blood.  
I smiled wickedly. That was a fucking battle thrill.  
The sound of fucilata, the sound of people breathing their last, blood squirting on the stone, that was all one could hear from behind of the cimitero's gate for the next hours.  
\--------  
Shit.  
One step after the other. Slowly. Agonizingly.  
Red liquid was trickling on the cobblestone. Tick. Tick. Tick. What an annoying sound. The street was void of people. No sound, no whisper, only that trickling.  
My hair was damped with the same fluid. Whether it was mine, whether it was someone else's, I didn't really give a fuck at that moment.  
Tick. Tick. Tick.  
Fuck. It fucking hurt.  
Eyes locked on the tip of my shoes, I moved on, one arm circling my injured abdomen. Short breaths were condensing into white puffs. Then suddenly… 'Bam!' I fell down, flat on my stomach, worn out. I didn't know where I was and my vision – or rather the rest of my vision which wasn't cluttered by a curtain of silver hair – was too limited for me to see only one foot away from me. Eyelids were heavy, lips were drought. Gradually my extremities were getting cold, and the wintriness was invading the rest of my body. Was that going to be the end of Superbi Squalo? Fuck. My surrounding was blurring.  
'Feccia' was the only thing I clearly heard before completely passing out.  
\-------  
An odor of antiseptics. That stank.  
Ouch. My head fucking hurt. It was like a giant hammer was hitting in there; it took me time to understand that was only the blood thumping on my temples, but also the incessant beeping of a monitor and the swish of an artificial respirator. Shit. Life is fucking heavy. My limbs were weighing two tons each, and the funniest was that it seemed that they were independent parts from my body. My eyelids finally cracked open, barely. Instead of the white and empty walls of a hospital, I stared at warm soothing curtains; seagulls were crying outside; waves were dying on fine blond sand. With a Goliath's effort, I maintained myself on weakened elbows, removed the oxygen mask, and rose from comfy pillows. My body's spectacle wasn't wonderful, far from it. I think eighty percent of my body were bandaged; a perfusion was drilling my right hand, the other was ungloved, showing the mechanical hand.  
'You shouldn't get up yet. They've pretty smashed you.' Xanxus' voice rose from the other side of the room, each word beating savagely in my head thanks to all the drugs I assumed had been poured in me. The raven haired was sitting in a velour chair, a nasty smirk stretching his thin lips.  
I furrowed the best I could – fuck I could hardly do that too. 'Bastard. You fomented it.' Xanxus laughed and moved to sit on the bed.  
'What did you expect, you dumb trash? I told you the Bartalis were doomed to be crushed by the end of the year. That's an ironical situation, but by doing it by yourself, you only helped for the job to be carried out even faster; and I didn't even have to depart from my daily activities to watch at your lazy ass.'  
'…' That cunning bastard. I laid down again, pulling the sheets toward me, avoiding Xanxus' eyes.  
'How many were they… Ah, fifty three men, fifty three of your previous companions you've slaughtered, and without going heart-sick. The work had been cleared swiftly and cost-effectively, though some runners are still scampering freely here and there; but not for long. Maybe I can use you after all.' Xanxus took hold of a silvery lock. 'So? How was it to snuff at your previous boss' life?'  
I recalled the gorgeous features torn into a crying baby face drenched in tears, blood and dirt, hair disheveled, clothes in tatters, and grinned.  
'Damn gratifying.'  
\---------  
Fine


End file.
